Cold Blood of My Blood
by Jackie Harkness
Summary: A murder case becomes complicated when motive points to the witness rather than the victim. When the witness is threatened, her past connection to Mac and Flack will be the key to solving the case.
1. Cue Baba O'Reilly

_**The chilly New York wind fluttered down the alleys, popping out in spurts to blow loose trash and snow out into the street and freezing passersby at the same time. The cold sky was heavy with clouds, promising more snow before nightfall. Winter in New York City only served to make people even less concerned with their surroundings than normal. So much so, that no one noticed the tall, bald man sitting on the alley steps of Michael's Rare Books. No one paid any attention to the massive frame uncomfortably folded in between the railings of the three steps that sat just behind the corner of the building, parallel to the street and oblivious passers. He sat, cigarette firmly held in his mouth, without moving. No one noticed how long he had been there. No one noticed him at all. He took the last drag of his cigarette, stamped it beneath his boot, and lit another. A woman walking by with her poodle only noticed the pungent smell, but thought no more of it. A young girl jogging by only noticed the dog. But the man in the worn leather jacket made a beeline for the other. Then came the gunshot. Suddenly, everyone noticed. Everyone now saw the tall, bald man collapse to the ground in the middle of the alley, several steps closer to the street than his previous position. Everyone noticed the pack of scattered cigarettes framing his arm like wings. Everyone noticed the hole in his forehead spilling blood over his lifeless eyes.**_


	2. First on site

Detective Mac Taylor slowly navigated the NYPD Avalanche through the crowd, stopping just outside the telltale yellow crime scene tape blocking off a section of sidewalk and an alley. He grabbed his kit, made sure Detective Jo Danville had all she needed with her, and headed across towards the scene, flashing his badge at the officer on duty while ducking under the tape. Detective Don Flack turned and walked towards him.

"Here's what I know, but to tell you the truth, it isn't much. We have an unknown male DB, shot in the head with what looks to be a 9mil. He was found in the alley behind Michael's Books, but the owner has no idea who he is, neither do any other storeowners on this block. I got my guys canvasing for witnesses, but except for one, its frickin cold and no one saw nothing." He shared a sympathetic look with Mac.

"Of course not. It's below 32 degrees, makes New Yorkers see less than they normally do. Everyone is concerned about getting home, staying warm." Mac began pulling on gloves, nodding when he saw Danny taking the last of the photographs of the body. "You said there is one witness?"

"Yeah, a jogger saw a man rush by her wearing a leather jacket. Brown hair, medium height, medium build. Saw him holding his left arm, maybe he was injured in the scuffle with the vic."

Mac knelt next to the victim, noting the position of the fall. "There are no defensive marks, no indication that the vic put up a fight. Maybe the suspect was carrying something?"

Jo pulled out her own camera and began to document the cigarettes before collection. Mac opened his kit, pulling out swabs to collect trace. He glanced up at Flack who was looking back at him nervously.

"Can the witness give us a more specific description than medium height and build?" His forehead furrowed as he took in Flack's hesitation to answer.

Flack glanced down at his memo book, flicking his gaze up at Mac several times. "She said he had either green or hazel eyes, can't remember much else about his face except that, and I'm quoting here, he looked 'sad'."

Mac shot him a raised eyebrow look. "Her words, not mine. I asked her to be more specific, but she just said that he looked like he had been through a lot. And it made him sad." Flack cleared his throat. "Mac, you should know. The witness…" he glanced toward the perimeter of the crime scene "its Jordan."

The reluctance in his voice made Jo's head snap up to stare at the normally confident detective. She followed his and Mac's line of sight to see a girl in her late teens talking calmly to an officer outside the perimeter. Jo had taken enough witness statements to determine that the officer was trying to establish a timeline. She looked between Flack's nervous expression and Mac's shocked one.

"Do you know her?"

The question was addressed to Mac, but Flack was the one to answer.

"She was a witness to a crime a few years ago. She lives near here. It's a bad neighborhood, so I see her a few times a year about some suspicious circumstance or other." He was still looking at Mac who was still not speaking. Jo looked at them both again, but couldn't read the emotion in their faces.

"Is she reliable?"

Finally Flack turned towards her. "Most definitely. She's a good kid, which is surprising in this part of town, and she's accurate."

They both turned to Mac as he finally moved, returning to his processing as he spoke.

"Keep her around for a while. I'll need to process her clothes, see if the killer left any evidence as transfer." He was now studiously concentrating on the scene, ignoring the perimeter.

"Ok Mac, I'll try. But you know, she's not gonna like it."

Mac didn't look up from his work. "She's our only witness, she might be holding the evidence needed to break the case."

Flack sighed, and walked towards the edge of the scene, dismissing the officer talking to the witness and speaking to her in quiet tones.

Jo finished her collecting, noting that although distracted, Mac had completed trace in record time. She knew how difficult it was to get information from the private man she worked with, but decided to give it a try.

"So who is this girl? Is this neighborhood so bad that we're on first name terms with all the locals?"

Mac continued to process, staying quiet so long that she thought he had simply ignored her question. Finally, with his back to her, she heard him say, "She was the lead witness in a violent crime two years ago. It was a tough case, a lot of which was based on her testimony. Flack and I got to know her pretty well in the meantime. Flack still runs into her from time to time." They continued in silence for awhile before Jo spoke up again.

"But it's got to be more than that. What happened to the case?"

This time it was clear Mac ignored the question. Jo watched him for a while, thought to herself how difficult it was sometimes to be the transfer in a department, then continued her work.


	3. More questions than answers

Mac pulled off his gloves with a snap, mentally preparing himself for his next course of action. He had procrastinated and he knew it, doing jobs that he normally would have passed on to others. He was grateful that Danny knew enough to pretend not to notice, but he was especially thankful that Jo didn't say anything either. He often admired the discretion of the woman he worked alongside. He finally headed across the scene, toward the witness. He passed Flack on the way, who stopped him.

"You know Mac, I can do this if you want. You don't need to…" his voice trailed off. "You know, if you want."

Mac shook his head. "I need you to see if you can get an ID on our vic, try to find someone that knows him. That's your job, this is mine." Flack nodded, but didn't comment on the brusque way Mac had spoken to him. Mac's face softened a bit from his supervisor expression. "I appreciate the offer Don, but I can handle this."

This time Flack nodded more easily, already slipping back into work mode himself. He headed off to talk to his officers, and Mac headed toward the edge of the crime scene. A squad car sat perpendicular to the scene, the witness sitting sideways in the passenger seat with her feet on the ground outside the open door. Mac finally felt guilty about taking so long, noting her light running jacket and lack of hat or gloves. She saw him coming, and his gut clenched slightly when he saw her expression fall and her eyes narrow. His face was expressionless when he set his kit down beside the squad car, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves.

"Jordan."

"Detective Taylor."

She was less successful in her attempt at a blank expression; he caught a glimmer of frustration under her schooled features. He sighed quietly and prepared himself to do his job.

"I know you've been through this before, but I'm going to need you to run through what you saw. I'll also need to examine your clothes, see if there is any trace on them." Her face pinched, but she made no other reaction. "Can you step out of the car, please?" He took a step back to give her room. She reluctantly climbed out of the car and turned to face him.

"I already told Flack everything I know, I can't think of anything else. Plus, I'm really cold, can't this wait?"

Mac tried not to smile about the fact that she looked more like a petulant child than a competent witness.

"Look, I know this is difficult, but I need to hear it in your own words." A smear of blood on the sleeve of her jacket told him that the killer had brushed her on his way out of the alley, something he was sure she hadn't told Flack. "Can you hold your hands out, please? I need to check for GSR. "

She reluctantly held out her hands, palms down and thumbs out. He pulled out a swab and began swiping it down her hand, trying not to be hurt when she flinched back from him slightly. "Why don't you start at the beginning? I take it you were out for a run?"

He glanced at her, expecting to start out on a good note. Running had been a passion of hers in the past, so he was surprised when it obviously made her uncomfortable to talk about.

"Yeah, I was finishing a run, heading home when I heard a shot. Some lady was walking her dog, and she screamed" She jerked her head down the block from the scene "over there. I was over there." she nodded towards Jo, who was barely inside the tape on the other end. "About where that lady is. I was listening to music so I wasn't sure where the shot came from. I stopped, and this guy came running out of the alley, passed me, then took off down that street." She pointed further past Jo. He continued to test her hands as she described the man in the same terms that Flack had told him.

Mac capped the last swab, placing it back in his kit.

"So the shooter ran toward you? How close did he get?"

"Not as close as you are now." Mac glanced at the three-foot gap between them, then grabbed her jacket just below the blood smear, making her flinch again.

"You wanna try that again?" She glanced down and her face fell as she noticed the stain.

"Ok, maybe he was a little closer."

"A little? He ran right into you." Mac noticed blood on her iPod case, strapped to her bicep, along with some white substance. "Because he did that, you now have blood and trace on your case and your jacket. I'm going to need to collect them from you."

She held out her arm, elbow first. "Ok, fine. Swab away." Mac glanced down at her face, watching her expression change from frustration to exasperation when she realized what he meant. "Wait, you mean take them? You want to take my iPod? _And _jacket?"

"I need to examine the smear pattern, it might help me determine where the blood was on the shooter." He held out an evidence bag, as she reluctantly slid the case off her arm and into the bag. He taped the bag shut and labeled it, then slid out of his heavy NYPD coat. He held it out to her as she unzipped her own jacket and took it off. For a moment, he thought she wouldn't accept it. She glared at the coat as if it had bitten her, then took it delicately from his hand and slid it on. Mac wasn't a large man but the coat dwarfed her, hanging off her arms and dangling halfway to her knees. He suppressed the chuckle that the comically oversized look produced and focused once again on the evidence.

"I'll get this back to you as soon as I can." She mumbled under her breath as she tried to poke her hands out of the too-long sleeves. His expression softened. "I am sorry about this. But this evidence might be what we need to find the man who did this."

Her face pinched, as the need to whine overcame her desire not to talk to him. "It's just, that's my only iPod. All my stuff is on there." He was reminded of a child again.

"You'll get it back. In the meantime, hit up one of those record stores you can't get enough of. Make Danny proud." She almost said something when he mentioned Danny, but had evidently decided not to respond to him anymore. He tried to brush off how much it bothered him as he finished collecting.

"Is there anything else you can tell me about the shooter? Did he have any scars or tattoos? Did he seem nervous about being caught? Anything?" She shook her head. "Come on, Jordan. You need to talk to me." She glared at him.

"I told you everything I saw, ok? He was medium height, but shorter than you. About your build, with brown hair and greenish eyes. That's it."

"Flack told me you said he was sad."

"No, I said he _looked_ sad. And cold."

Mac's head came up from his notes. "Cold? How?"

Jordan huffed in frustration. "He looked worn, ok? Like his jacket was too thin. His face looked sad and he was shaking."

"He was shaking?"

She nodded. Mac ran through a number of scenarios in his head that this information added, thinking he now had an idea on the white substance transferred to her iPod. Jo walked over while he was writing the information down.

"Mac, Danny and I are all set. I'm going to take the evidence back, see if Lindsay can get a hit on this guy's DNA. The body's on it's way to the morgue." She smiled at the girl in the oversized jacket, who now looked much younger than her age.

"Here, take this." Mac handed her the evidence collected from Jordan. "Get this to trace, tell Adam to start on the iPod case." Jo glanced from the evidence back to the girl, but wisely said nothing. As she walked away she heard a quiet "hey" come from behind her. She turned to find the witness hesitantly deliberating to talk in front of Mac or not. When Mac pretended to return to his notes, she spoke. "Tell Danny to give it a listen, maybe he'll figure out there's more to music than AC/DC. " Jo smiled brightly at the girl and left, determining how to get Danny to let her in on the story.


	4. Cold memories

Despite the heavy coat, for which she was secretly grateful, Jordan was cold. She hadn't planned on spending so much time outside, plus she had underestimated how warm her jacket would be. She just wanted to leave; to go home, get warm, and most importantly get away from _him. _He looked exactly the same as he did two years previously; same dark hair, trim figure, even his crime scene kit was the same. His eyes were also the same, glancing calmly at her face, and then piercing through her soul once she made eye contact. She hated how easily he could read her, how he could sense every changing emotion on her face. How his eyes could be so expressive and yet hide so much of what he was feeling. She gave an involuntary shiver, remembering how he looked at her during her statement.

_"You wanna try that again?" _

What was new this time was her flinching. She had never done that with him before, and although she was less than pleased to see him, she wasn't sure why she was doing it now. Another reason she wished she was anywhere but there. She groaned mentally in frustration when she jumped as he came up beside her suddenly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." He looked as though he actually meant it, his hands held out in a pacifying gesture. She tried to play it off as though he hadn't scared the crap out of her, as though he didn't put her so far on edge.

"It's fine. Here." She shrugged out of his massive coat and held it out to him, feeling slightly guilty for making him walk around in the freezing weather in just his suit coat. "I'm going to head home."

He started to say something, then cut himself off. He gave her another one of those penetrating stares, before nodding slowly.

"Keep it. It's freezing, you're going to need it. I'll get it back from you when I return your jacket."

Jordan scoffed. "There's no way I'm keeping that."

His face fell, the first obvious emotion that she had seen from him. Despite herself, she felt bad for hurting him. "I meant, it's yours. I can't take it."

He nodded, but she could see he was still upset. Her guilt at causing his reaction overcame her impulse to not speak to him.

"Mac, you know I can't wear that home."

Mac's head lifted up at her statement, staring straight through her as he processed her words.

"Ok. But I'm going to give you a ride, you're not walking home without a coat."

"What? No, it's ok. It's fine! It's good, I'll just get Flack…" a quick glance around the scene showed Flack to be conspicuously missing. "I'll just walk, it's not far."

"Jordan."

That one word told her that arguing was pointless. He wasn't going to change his mind. She sighed in defeat, dropping her forehead down to her head. Mac draped his coat back over her shoulders before she could react.

"I'm going to secure the scene" he pointed to the officers still standing outside the tape "then I'll give you a ride home." He pointed to a black Chevy Avalanche parked on the other end of the scene. "I want you to go sit in my car" he caught her hand in his and pressed a set of keys into her palm "and turn on the heater. I'll be with you in a few minutes."

She couldn't stifle the flinch that time, but before she could respond or protest, he was gone. He walked confidently across the taped off area and addressed the officers standing watch. Jordan reluctantly complied with his order, walking around the perimeter of the crime scene and climbing into the passenger seat of the truck. She was tempted to start it up and drive away, but so many complications arose with that scenario that she rejected it before even considering it. Wrapped in his coat, it was significantly warmer inside the car as it slowly heated up. Now that he was gone, she felt some of her old frustration about being given orders creeping in. She took a moment to wonder why she could never find it in her to refuse them to his face, or even feel insulted at him telling her what to do.

She was, however, actively trying hard to suppress the memories that were threatening to rise as she inhaled the scent of his coat. She wished she had her iPod to help block them out. "_You don't need to worry, I'll protect you." _She turned on the radio, flipping channels to switch over from talk radio. _"Do you really think that my testimony will help?" 'Absolutely.' _She found a classic rock station playing the last half of a song by The Who. _"I need your help, Jordan." _She burrowed deeper into the coat, cranked the heater higher, and tried breathing through her mouth. _"I need your help, Jordan." _She watched him through the windshield, evidently explaining something beyond the comprehension of the officer on duty. _"I need your help, Jordan."_ Finally, he signed his name on something the officer held out to him, and headed towards the car. She spent the time it took him to get there to get her breathing down from the near hyperventilating it had reached, while noticing her increasing heart rate.

He climbed in, chilling her momentarily with a blast of arctic air. He glanced at the rather loud radio, but said nothing. She turned it down to background noise and sank back into the seat.

"Ok then," he gave her the smallest of smiles "home."

_"I need your help, Jordan." _


	5. Cool changes

Mac eased into traffic, enjoying the warmth of the heated car. He had spent the better part of a half hour in freezing temperatures in only his suit and had been thoroughly chilled. He didn't regret it, especially when he had gone back to Jordan and found her shivering beside the squad car, despite the coat she was drowning in. He hadn't realized how cold she had gotten, and was mentally kicking himself for not putting her in a warm car and sending her home straight away. He had thought it better if Flack were to take her home, but an unexpected call-in had taken him off sight. Then, something in her demeanor made him curious to see how her home life was, so he decided to drive her home.

A part of him was still puzzled about her flinching. She had never flinched away from him before, and he wasn't sure what was causing it now. His quick movements made her react, but that could easily be shock or leftover adrenalin from witnessing a murder. Every time he reached toward her hands or arms, she flinched back; however, he had draped his coat around her shoulders with no incidence. As much as the scientist in him wanted to keep testing her reactions, the emotional side of him knew that her interacting with him was draining her. He was _persona non grata_ at the moment with her, and he knew he was wearing on her nerves. He continued to drive, noticing her withdrawing into herself and staring out the window.

"I probably should have asked, do you still live in the same place?" He knew she did, Flack had given him her information. He wanted to draw her out a little.

She nodded, then said "Yes" when she realized he wasn't watching her. The heavy silence resumed. He tried again.

"Do you need to call someone?" She turned to him, confused. "I mean, you were gone for a few hours. Does someone know where you were?" She looked slightly guilty, but shook her head. He carefully watched her expression when he asked, "Did you call your father?" He caught a glimpse of some unknown emotion flit across her face, but he couldn't identify what it was.

"He's at work. I'll tell him when he gets home."

She went back to staring out the window. Mac watched her body language out of the corner of his eye as he turned his attention back to the road.

"Didn't anyone notice that you were gone for so long?"

He had distracted her enough that she was responding to his questions without seeming to notice to whom she was speaking.

"Not really. I mean, the housekeeper is the only one home at this time anyway. Besides, I usually go running about this time, and sometimes I'm gone longer than others."

He knew that was a lie. When he had known her before, she had a structured workout that she never deviated from. He glanced sideways at her as a thought struck him; maybe she had changed. He called up an image of her from two years ago and compared it her as she was now. She was the same height, about as tall as Lindsay. Her figure was still the same; not necessarily slender, but athletic and in shape. Her once curly hair was smoothed into a long, auburn ponytail. She looked almost the same, just slightly older.

But to Mac, the biggest change was in her face. It had lost its last little bit of baby fat, now harder and sharper. Her expressions were as different as night and day from before. Gone was the easy smile, now her mouth was held in a tight, drawn line. The innocence was gone from her eyes, replaced by sorrow. He remembered the goofy faces she used to pull to try to make Danny laugh. Looking at her face now, he doubted she had smiled in days. Maybe weeks. What hurt him the most was the change in how she looked at him. She had once given him such an open, trusting expression that it would warm his heart just to look at her face. Now, despite her best efforts at keeping a neutral expression, she looked at him with traces of bitterness, tinged with sorrow.

He caught her stealing similar glances at him, evidently comparing him to the man she had once known. Her face tightened as they made eye contact and she turned back to the window. The heavy silence fell once again.

Mac turned his attention back to the road, watching as the rundown buildings improved from street to street until he was driving through a fairly upscale neighborhood. They were less than two miles from the crime scene, but the stop and go traffic made the trip nearly double the amount of time it should have taken. Jordan's quiet voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"You need to turn left there." She pointed at a side street that led into a row of expensive houses. He smoothly pulled out of the main traffic flow and turned down the street. Halfway down the street, he pulled to the curb in front of a large house. Unlike most of the others along this street, this house had almost no lights on and no car parked outside. Night had almost completely fallen, yet it was obvious no one was home.

As soon as he had come to a complete stop, Jordan unlatched her seat belt and slid out of his coat. She had the door halfway open before his voice stopped her.

"I'm going to need you to come to the precinct tomorrow and submit a written statement."

She turned back halfway out the door. "Yeah, Flack told me." She slid the rest of the way out of the car.

"Jordan, wait." He dug into his pocket and pulled out his business card. "Take this. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to call." She stared at the card without making a move to grab it. He didn't normally hand out cards to witnesses, that was Flack's department. But he couldn't let her go into that dark, empty house without a way to contact him. Her face was completely blank for the first time. Then she slowly reached out her hand and took the card. She turned away, shutting the door behind her. He was about to pull away when the door opened again.

"Detective?" He glanced back to see her hesitate, avoiding meeting his eyes. "Thanks for the coat." She closed the door again and jogged towards the house. He noticed that she seemed to be limping slightly, probably from cold and stiff muscles. He waited until she was inside and the lights came on before he drove off. The neighborhood, the house, seeing her again; everything was bringing back memories. He tried to shake them off. Unlike Jordan, his work was just beginning.

_"I need your help, Jordan."_


	6. Patience spent, patience earned

Every time the elevator opened, Jo would scour the group coming off for Mac. It had been over an hour since she had left him at the crime scene with the young witness and he still hadn't returned. While she was working on results that she needed to share with him, she was more intent on trying to get the whole story of Jordan. Her ride back to the crime lab with Danny had been enlightening, to say the least. After sorting out evidence and securing chain of command, they had headed back. For the first few minutes they went over the scene, ran a few theories by each other, and planned on doling out responsibilities once they got back. After a few moments of silence, Jo finally brought up the issue.

"Danny, who was that girl? The witness. Mac and Don both seemed to know her."

Danny smiled his easy grin. "That was Jordan. Jordan Gray. Yeah, she was part of an investigation a while back, spent most of it helping Mac."

"Why would a witness be working with a crime scene investigator? That seems rather unusual."

"That's the thing, most of the evidence we collected seemed insignificant and nothing was connected. Her knowledge of the scene and the vic was crucial to interpreting evidence. Mac got tired of having to call her every time we got a result, so he picks her up and brings her to the lab. She spent most of the day in his office with him, going over evidence and putting everything into perspective."

"So she knew the victim?"

A slight cloud came over Danny's expression. "It was her soccer coach. She was the one to find him. I didn't think she'd be able to tell us anything, I mean, she was pretty shaken up. But Mac got through to her, got her to open up. She was a tough kid. Turns out, she had overheard several heated conversations between the coach and our prime suspect."

"Oh my, that must have been difficult for her. Finding someone you look up to murdered." Jo considered that for a moment, when another thought came to her. "So she and Mac got along together?"

Danny gave her a look. "Yeah, they did. Why?"

"It's just that, when I went to let him know we were leaving, they were hardly speaking and obviously uncomfortable. She wouldn't even talk to me until she thought he wasn't paying attention. She almost seemed afraid of him."

He took a few moments to consider her statement. "I don't think she's scared of Mac. She might be angry with him and I know she wouldn't want to speak to him, but she'd never be afraid of him."

Jo wasn't as sure, but continued to press for an answer. "What happened to make her angry? If they got along so well before, why are they incapable of speaking now? Why the dramatic change?"

Danny didn't reply. He concentrated on the road, driving in silence.

"Danny, what happened with the case?"

He coughed. "It never went to trial. We had all the evidence, but without Jordan's testimony…" He trailed off. "The case was dropped."

Jo was surprised. "You mean she wouldn't testify? After all that work? What happened?"

Danny shook his head. "Jo, I'm sorry but if you want to know the rest, you're gonna have to ask Mac."

They continued in silence for a while, as Jo was trying to figure out how someone would be willing to spend hours in a crime lab and still refuse to testify. "I'm surprised she stayed to be a witness again, if she isn't willing to testify."

Danny's head snapped over to look at her. "No, it's not like that." His deliberation was evident on his face as he tried to decide what to say. "Don't think badly of Jordan, Jo. She was willing, that's why she put in all that work. She just…" he cut off, trying to find the right words. Finally he sighed. "She lost someone, Jo. Someone she loved, right before the trial. Killed in the same way as the first victim. There was no definitive evidence that the two crimes were related, but it was enough to cast doubt that our suspect did it. Jordan was a wreck, and said she wouldn't testify. The DA wouldn't prosecute and charges were dropped." Danny blew out a breath of air, before deciding to continue. "I think she would've done it anyway, but she was upset and wasn't thinking straight. By the time she was recovering, the case was dropped and it was too late."

Jo thought of children she knew that had lost a loved one and how they responded. It was an understandable reaction to withdrawn into oneself, especially if she had already lost a supporting figure in her life. "Oh, that poor girl."

Danny looked slightly embarrassed, as if he had revealed too much. Jo still wanted to know why Jordan and Mac were so at odds now and what had happened to cause the rift, but she felt Danny wouldn't reveal anything else. She turned the topic toward a more lighthearted direction.

"I meant to tell you, when I picked up Jordan's evidence she said for you to listen to her iPod. Something about, there's more to music than AC/DC."

Danny laughed. "Of course she did, that's just because she thinks Led Zeppelin is the extent of classic heavy metal." He proceeded to launch into a story of their music discussions, which had evidently been the primary focus of their interactions. Jo smiled at his animated recount, keeping an image in the back of her mind of a small girl wrapped in an oversized coat with a sad expression on her face.


	7. One more piece

A ding from the elevator brought Jo back to the present. She searched through the crowd and spotted Mac stepping off with his coat back on. She quickly grabbed her results, checked on the tests still running, and secured her evidence before following him. She waited outside his office until he sat at his desk and logged onto his computer, then she tapped on the glass door. The look on his face told her that he had been waiting for her to show up. He waved her in and she decided that he would probably appreciate it if she started with the evidence before the personal questions.

"Your hunch was right, Mac. The white substance that was transferred to the iPod case came back positive for cocaine. DNA is still running, but I think all the blood from the jacket will come back to the victim."

Mac took the results from Jo and looked over them. "It appears to be low grade cocaine, it's nowhere near being pure." He glanced up at Jo.

"Well, so far this is our only link to the shooter. Adam is examining the vic's clothes for trace but it looks to be a clean kill."

Mac smiled. "There's no such thing." He glanced back at the results. "Jordan mentioned that the shooter was shaking. She thought he was cold, but he may have been exhibiting withdrawal symptoms. The vic was wearing an expensive watch and overcoat. This may be a robbery gone wrong. That, added to the trace elements of cocaine," he handed the results back to Jo "suggests that we may be looking at a drug addict as our shooter."

"That's what I was thinking. I have Flack canvasing known drug dealers in the vicinity of the crime scene, looking for someone who maybe had some quick cash unexpectedly." Mac nodded and turned his attention to his computer. Since he had mentioned Jordan, she decided now was as good a time as any to broach the subject.

"Jordan seems to be a smart girl, especially considering how much she noticed about the shooter."

Mac nodded, but didn't look at her. "Yes, she's very observant. Notices little details that often get lost in the mix." Mac's scientific approach to people and emotions made Jo smile.

"Is she ok? She seemed a little shaken up, understandably so."

Mac finally glanced at her, with a look that said he knew she was fishing for information. "She was, a little. I gave her a ride home, she seemed calm." He regretted mentioning the ride when he saw Jo's eyes light up with curiosity. He gave her a look of fond exasperation. "Flack was going to take her home but he got called away. I had taken her jacket as evidence, it's freezing outside, and so…" he trailed off.

"So you took her home so she wouldn't have to walk."

"Yes, I did. That's all." Any hope he had of ending the conversation died when Jo gave him her 'I'm not buying it' look. She pulled up one of the chairs across from his desk and sat down. "Mac, tell me. Who is this girl? I know there's more to this story."

He smiled at her earnest expression. "I'm sure Danny filled you in."

"He told me that she was a witness in a murder investigation, that she was helpful in interpreting evidence."

She saw a glimmer of something darken the color in Mac's eyes. "She was beyond helpful, she was crucial to the investigation. We had evidence without context, no way of connecting it together. She knew the victim and she knew the crime scene. It turns out, she had seen the suspect several times before the murder and she had seen him running out of the building on the day the victim was killed."

Jo softened her voice in response to the obvious emotion Mac was feeling. "So what happened?"

Mac stared off past her. She watched the emotions cross his face as he obviously was reliving memories. Finally, he turned to face her, raw sadness set firmly in his eyes.

"Her boyfriend died."

Jo inhaled sharply as she made the connection to what Danny had told her.

"He was murdered a week before the case was set to go to trial. Jordan just…" He passed a hand over his face in a rough gesture. "Jordan broke down. She was grieving, not thinking clearly, and she refused to testify."

Jo waited for Mac to collect himself. It was obvious that this memory was painful for him, but it wasn't clear to her why it was. Perhaps it was "Did she cause the case to be dismissed?" Jo thought maybe he felt responsible for the suspect getting off.

Mac shook his head, staring off again with a distant expression. "Actually, no. The two crimes seemed to be related, the suspect was in custody for the second so it obviously wasn't him, and the DA didn't go forward with the case." He chuckled to himself. "It actually had nothing to do with Jordan."

"Mac what happened? She was barely speaking to you, she looked scared. Is there any reason she would be afraid of you?"

Mac gave her the same expression that Danny had. "She's not afraid of me."

Jo still wasn't convinced. "She's scared of something."

Mac stood up, obviously done with the conversation. "Right now, she's just another witness. She'll give her written statement to Flack, but we need to work the evidence. Have we managed to ID this guy yet?"

Jo sighed. She had pushed him too far, and although she had more to the puzzle, she felt as though she were missing a key piece. "Sid hasn't finished the autopsy, and Lindsay is running DNA as we speak. So far, he's still a John Doe."

Danny came through Mac's secondary office door as she spoke the last sentence. "Make that a John Dorin. Fingerprints came back on the vic, he has a record. He was arrested two times on aggravated assault and once on assault with a deadly weapon, but he was never convicted."

Jo turned back to Mac. "Arrested three times with no conviction? He certainly had a lucky streak."

Mac took the records from Danny. "Or a good lawyer."

Danny crossed his arms. "You thinkin' he's connected?"

Mac looked up at him. "Someone put time and effort into keeping this man out of prison."

"Ok, I'll run his name by the organized crime unit, see what I can find."

Mac nodded and Danny left the office. Jo stayed in place, staring at the door Danny had left by. Mac caught her thoughtful expression.

"What is it?"

Jo shook her head. "I'm just wondering, what is a well-dressed man with a possible mob connection doing in an alley behind an bookstore? And what is the drug connection?"

He nodded slowly. "We have possible motive for the shooter, but we still need to establish exactly what the victim was doing at the scene." He smiled at her. "You know what I'm going to say?"

Jo smiled back at him. "Follow the evidence?"

"You got it."

She nodded, gathered her results, and turned to leave. She paused at the door and faced Mac as he sat back at his desk.

"Mac?" She waited until he glanced up at her. "You know, if you ever need to talk…"

Mac smiled slightly. "I appreciate that, Jo."

She nodded and left his office. Her work was obviously cut out for her, both to find the shooter and figure out just what Jordan was so afraid of.


	8. One word more

Flack smiled at the girl sitting across from him. They were sitting at a table in an interview room inside the precinct, one of the few quiet places where witnesses wouldn't be distracted as they tried remembering details. Flack felt slightly guilty that Jordan had only written half a page of her account, most of the time spent chatting with him instead of finishing her statement.

"So you're telling me, Danny once compared Bob Marley to the Spice Girls?"

"I swear, it was the funniest thing I've ever heard! But to be fair, it was like, three in the morning and we had both stopped making sense. I doubt he even remembers it, he was so tired."

They both started laughing again. Flack took the chance while she was distracted to observe her. Today, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, she looked closer to her age than she had the day before. Shivering on the sidewalk in her light blue jacket and black jogging pants had made her look sixteen, rather than eighteen. Although she looked older today, he was happy to see that his conversation with her had relaxed the tight lines around her mouth and eyes; she was looking younger and happier as their interview went on.

"So where did you disappear to yesterday?"

The sudden change of topic brought him back to the present. "I had to chase down a lead. If you would finish your statement" he tapped the witness form in front of her "I'll tell you about what I found."

She sighed in mock exasperation and picked up her pen. "Fine, I'm working. See?"

He smiled at her lighthearted behavior. "Ok, so lets pick it back up. You hear a shot, stop, and see the guy run out of the alley. What did you see?"

She thought for a second, then started writing. "He was about five foot six, short brown hair." She glanced up at him. "I don't know his exact eye color, should I write anything down?"

He nodded. "I need you to write everything, even if it was just a glimpse."

"Ok. When he brushed by me, I thought his eyes were either green or hazel. He bumped into my left shoulder and continued running down the street." She glanced up to ask Flack another question and found him giving her a look that said something was bothering him. "What?"

"Why didn't you tell me that he bumped into you?"

She looked sheepish. "Cuz I knew you'd give me that look, the one you're giving me right now."

He leaned forward. "He got close enough to run into you, Jordan. You could've been hurt."

"It was too late, Flack. By the time you were there, he was gone. It didn't matter anymore."

"You still should have told me."

She sighed, leaning back in her chair. "I'm sorry, I just didn't want you to be worried." She indicated his tense expression. "Guess that worked out well."

He finally relaxed his posture, sitting back into his seat. "It's my job to worry. It's also a lot more helpful if the witness" he stressed the word and gave her a hard look "tells me all the pertinent information. I could've gotten someone to process your clothes earlier."

She turned back to writing her statement. "That's ok, Mac did a bang up job of that all by himself."

Flack sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Jordan…"

She looked up, irritated. "What?"

He shook his head. "Look, I know you got it in for Mac right now. But he was just doing his job."

She dropped her gaze. "I know."

Flack reached across the table, stopping just before where her hand rested. "And I think you need to get used to the idea that you're going to have to deal with him right now. He's leading the investigation, you're the only witness, your paths are going to cross again. He's not going to make things uncomfortable for you, so try not to make it worse for him. Besides," he tapped the table until she looked up at him "he really does care." He leaned back and let her continue writing in silence. She asked him a few more questions, but for the most part she focused on her statement.

They were both startled by a tap on the door. Jo poked her head in a few seconds later.

"I hope I'm not interrupting, but I have a few questions for Jordan. Mac told me I could find you both here."

Flack nodded. "Sure thing, come on in."

Jo smiled and slid into the room. She took in the relaxed atmosphere of the room and the obvious ease between Jordan and Flack. She mentally logged another piece of the mystery.

"Jordan, my name is Jo Danville. I'm a detective in the crime lab."

Jordan set down her pen and stuck out her hand. "Jordan Gray, nice to meet you."

Jo stepped forward and shook her hand. Flack started to rise and offer her his chair, but she waved him off and sat on the corner of the table. She was sure to leave space between herself and Jordan, knowing some witnesses could get nervous around investigators they weren't comfortable with. Jordan, however, only shifted in her seat to face Jo.

"How can I help? I've almost completed my statement." She gestured at the nearly finished form on the table. "I'm sorry it took so long, I was distracted." She playfully glared at Flack who grinned.

"Actually, I have a few questions about the trace evidence from your jacket. I've been processing it and I need to determine what came from the suspect and what didn't. For instance," she pulled out a sheet of paper from the file in her hand "I found what appears to be cat hair on the sleeve. I need to know if this came from somewhere you've been or if it was transferred when the suspect ran into you."

Jordan tipped her head slightly, thinking. "I think that's from me. I crashed at a friend's place the night before. She has a cat that sleeps on me when I'm there."

Jo nodded and wrote something down. "Ok then, next question. I found ash from a cigarette on your jacket as well. Do you smoke, or spend time with people that do?"

"No, I don't. I can't stand the smell, it gives me a headache."

"Can you think of any way it could have been transferred? From a friend maybe?"

Jordan shook her head. "None of my friends smoke, at least not around me. I'm sorry, I don't know where it came from."

Jo nodded. "Ok, what can you tell me about the victim? Had you ever seen him before? Did you notice him before the shooting, was he talking to anyone?"

"I didn't recognize him. I didn't even see him until after the gunshot. I'm sorry, but I only noticed him after he was dead."

"Did you go into the alley at all?"

"No, I kinda figured when I saw the bullet hole…" her voice trailed off. "Anyway, I borrowed someone's phone, called 911, and waited for you guys."

Flack spoke up. "Wait, you didn't have a phone with you?"

She gave him an unreadable look. "I don't take it with me when I run."

Jo finished writing her notes down and stood up. "Well, that's all the questions I have at this moment. If something else comes up, I may have to call you for clarification. Is that alright?"

Jordan nodded. "Of course."

"Thank you. It was nice meeting you Jordan, I'll be in touch. And don't worry, I'll get your jacket back as soon as possible."

Flack nodded. "Thanks Jo." She smiled and left.

Jordan watched her leave. "I kinda like her. She's nice."

"Yeah, she grows on you."

After finishing her statement, Jordan was preparing to leave when Flack stopped her. "Feel free to contact me if you need to, for any reason. And Jordan?" She looked up at his face, matching his serious expression. "We're all here for you, all of us. And I don't just mean about this." He tapped her statement. She nodded.

"Thanks, Flack." She gave him a quick hug and was gone. He watched her walk out of the precinct and sighed. Whatever the whole story between her and Mac was, she was still pretty bitter. He knew enough to understand, but he hoped she would be willing to give Mac the second chance he deserved.

The phone on his desk rang. He picked it up, had a short conversation, and scribbled down some notes. He hung up and stood, sliding on his jacket while headed out the door. He had one more thing to run by Mac.


	9. Let the pieces fall

Mac stood in the center of his office, staring at the glass wall behind his desk. A picture of the victim and his arrest record was taped to the left side, the results from DNA and trace on the right. He assembled the scene in his mind, mentally adding information and eliminating irrelevant data. He had a clear mental picture of the vic, how he would have been positioned before he died. He added the details of the shooter, height and trace evidence. Suddenly he frowned, noting something out of place. He turned to his desk and dug through crime scene photos before pulling out a shot of the three steps behind the bookstore. He flipped to the next picture, which showed a smashed cigarette at the base of the last step. Frowning, he stepped to the wall and taped the photo in the middle. He returned to his earlier position, staring at the wall and mentally going through the crime scene. His concentration was broken when Lindsay came through his office door.

"Mac, I've got something that doesn't make sense."

"You're not the only one."

She stopped, then seemed to notice his wall of evidence. "Wait, what do you have?"

Mac turned back and pointed as she came to stand next to him. "The vic was found at the entrance to the alley here. But the evidence shows he spent a large amount of time on the steps here. He's roughly ten feet away from where he should have been if the shooter surprised him while he was sitting there."

"Why would the victim move _toward_ the killer?"

Mac shook his head. "I'm not sure yet. What do you have for me?"

She handed him a series of photos. "Inconsistency in the blood spatter on the vics hands. The pattern on his clothing shows that his arms were out" she held her arms in a placating gesture "like this. But there is a void on the victim's hand, no spatter. Now, if the killer approached the victim and he held his arms out, palms forward, there would be blood on both his clothing and the back of his hands. But his right hand is clean. Add that to this." She handed him another photo. "The vics watch had a smear in the blood trail. It doesn't make sense."

Mac stared at the pictures. "The only way it would be possible is if something was covering the back of the victim's hand when the gun went off."

"But we didn't find any evidence of that at the crime scene."

"Maybe the shooter took it with him."

They both turned when Jo came through the door.

"Mac, I have some evidence that isn't adding up."

Mac and Lindsay both smiled at each other before he spoke. "What is it?"

Jo stepped forward, holding out results. "I processed the GSR you swabbed from Jordan's hand. It came back positive in extremely low amounts."

Mac nodded. "Consistent with transfer, it fits with her account."

"But get this; it came back mixed with cigarette ash, the same substance I found on her jacket. I only found it on her left sleeve, which combined with her not being a smoker, tells me that it came from the shooter. But it also matches the cigarette ash from the victim."

Lindsay turned to Mac. "So maybe the victim transferred the ash to the shooter, who in turn transfers it to the jacket."

Mac shook his head. "There was no indication that the victim had a physical altercation with the shooter."

Jo pulled out another sheet. "This probably doesn't help anything, but there were traces of GSR on the victim's hand as well; here's the interesting part, there was only GSR on the victims fingers, not the back of his hand like you would expect."

Mac turned back to his wall. "Unless…" He took the blood spatter photo from Lindsay and placed it directly beneath the photo of the victim. "What if the victim grabbed for the gun?" He held up his fingers in the shape of a gun and pointed them at Lindsay. "Say you're the victim. I come at you with a gun, you grab for it," he took her right hand and she grabbed his fingers "and then the killer fights for control." He placed his left hand over Lindsay's. "The gun goes off, causing the GSR on the victim's fingers but no blood spatter or GSR to the back of the hand. Because the killer was covering it."

Lindsay examined the position of their hands. "That would explain the blood smear on the victim's watch. The shooter must have swiped the surface when he let go."

Jo spoke up. "But that still doesn't explain the cigarette ash. Sid confirmed that the vic smoked with his left hand. There wasn't any trace that I found on his right."

They all turned when Flack tapped on the door to Mac's office. "Well, this just got interesting. The wallet of your vic was found on the body of a junkie. Joey Lawrence was admitted to Trinity General last night for a drug overdose. He died this morning. Among his possessions was the wallet of one John Dorin, a switchblade, and a 9mil. Now get this; the officer on duty at the hospital ran the serial number of the gun, also belonged to John Dorin."

Mac's eyebrows shot up. "So our victim was shot with his own gun."

Flack nodded. "Looks that way. Joey Lawrence has a record long as my arm. Mainly small time muggings and B&Es. But, he was never charged with a felony because his only weapon…"

Mac finished the sentence. "Was a knife." He turned back to the photos. "So Joey brings a knife to a gun fight, the vic pulls his weapon, and somehow Joey grabs it and kills the victim with his own gun."

Jo nodded. "If the gun was the victim's, that might explain the cigarette transfer to the shooter. You were right, Mac. This was a robbery gone bad."

Mac turned to face her. "That still doesn't explain what John Dorin was doing in the alley with a loaded gun. Or why" he pointed to the photo in the middle "he walks ten feet toward the street before being attacked by Joey Lawrence."

Danny tapped on the door as he walked in. "Hey Mac, sorry to interrupt the party but I got something that isn't adding up."

Mac rubbed his face. "Well, get in line. What's up?"

Danny held up a picture of Jordan's iPod. "I plugged in Jordan's iPod, just cuz she brought it up for fun, but I found something. First of all, there is a massive file on it that isn't music. I tried to open it, but it's encrypted. Adam is working on it now. But I also found this." He held up tracking data on two circular loops around a map. "She has a GPS tracker in her shoe that records her running times and speed. It holds data going six months back. Now, up until two months ago, she was running a consistent loop of four miles every other day. Two months ago, she cuts out; does nothing. Starting three weeks ago, she begins a two-mile circuit at less than half the speed as before, still every other day. I thought that was weird, until I heard back from organized crimes. John Dorin, our vic, is connected to the Minnetti crime family. And you will never believe who his hot-shot lawyer is." He handed Mac a file.

Mac opened it, read a few lines, and looked up in shock. "Dorian Gray."

Danny nodded. "Jordan's father."

Flack held out his hand in a 'wait' gesture. "Hold on. You're saying that Jordan's dad is connected to our vic? How does that make sense?"

Danny stuck his hands in his pockets. "It doesn't. But, I checked the data, and Jordan was running by that alley every time she went running. I remembered that the evidence showed the vic was sitting in one place for a long time, so I checked her times. She was running by that alley thirty minutes later than she had been two months ago."

Jo looked shocked. She was about to speak when Hawkes came through the door.

"Hey Mac, check this out. I processed the vic's wallet that we recovered from the kid who OD'd. I found eight brand new hundred-dollar bills, with sequential serial numbers. Now, assuming the shooter used some of the money to purchase cocaine, we're looking at close to a thousand dollars in our vic's wallet. I also found this," he pulled out an evidence bag with a business card "inside the wallet. It has an address written on the back, which leads to our crime scene. Underneath that" he indicated with his finger "is an approximate time, 'Between 3:30 and 4:00'. The card is from a law firm. Conner, Gray, and Wright."

Jo gasped as Mac took the card. Lindsay spoke up. "Mac? Do you think…" She trailed off as Adam walked in. He looked around at their faces, then at the back wall now full of pictures.

"Wow, it's crowded in here."

Mac looked up, almost all patience gone. "Adam, do you have something or not?"

Adam shook himself. "Right, sorry boss. Um, the folded piece of paper that I found in the vic's overcoat doesn't make much sense. It's a torn roster for a girl's soccer team that is part of the junior premier league. I'm still trying to contact the team representative for more info, because there's one picture circled on the vic's sheet." He held up a torn sheet of paper with at least eight pictures. The one closest to the tear was circled. "Her name is Jordan Gray."

Mac took the sheet, then turned and stared at the wall. He abruptly walked over and began taking pictures down until only a few remained. He addressed the shocked faces of his team. "We have John Dorin, waiting in an alley with a loaded gun, a time of day written on a business card, and a circled picture. He moved closer to the street, not because of his shooter but because of his target." He turned back to face the picture of the victim's body. "Joey Lawrence's failed robbery prevented a crime. John Dorin was waiting in that alley to kill Jordan Gray."


	10. Explosive reactions

Jordan stared across the table at Mac's face. Her interview with Flack the day before had brought back memories of two years ago. She had remembered going over evidence with him in his office, with him explaining the science as they went. She had been amazed at the details of it, at how much information they could reveal with so few clues. She had enjoyed spending time with him, even if the circumstances were less than pleasant. As soon as she saw him smile, she began putting effort into making him laugh. The first time he joked with her, she nearly fell off her chair.

Those memories had made her feel bad about the cold way she had treated him. That, plus Flack's admonishment, had made her decide to be more civil in spite of herself. What she was hearing now, however, was making her regret that decision.

"So you're telling me that someone wanted to kill me?"

In front of her was an assortment of pictures, showing the gun and wallet of the victim, the circled photo of her, and the back of the business card with the time and location. Mac had decided not to tell her about her father's involvement. They still weren't sure about his connection.

"The evidence is showing us that John Dorin was in that alley waiting for you." He pulled out a mug shot of the victim. "Are you sure you've never met this guy?"

She shook her head, obviously not quite grasping the entire situation. "No, I told you before, I've never even seen him before. And why do you think he was after me?"

Despite having explained it already, Mac gestured to the evidence. "He had that exact location written down, along with the approximate time of day you go running there." He gave her a stern look. "Which I know was about the same every day."

She ducked her head a bit at his discovery of her lie. He picked up another picture and continued. "He had a photo in his pocket, specifically yours was circled. He was carrying a 9mm handgun. There's evidence that he waited almost thirty minutes." He lowered his head to make eye contact with her. "Jordan, we believe this is serious. This is what we call a credible threat. Someone was trying to kill you."

She shook her head again. "But he's dead, right? I mean, that other guy, the sad guy with the jacket, he killed him. Didn't he? So it's over, right? That's the end of it."

Mac felt his stomach sink at what he now had to tell her. "Jordan. Someone gave that information to John Dorin. Someone else is pulling the strings, and I don't believe that he will stop now that this man is dead. I believe that this person, whoever it is, will try again."

Her head snapped up at his statement. "Wait, you're telling me that they are still out there? Do you know who it is? Who wants me dead?"

Mac sighed. "We're not sure at this point in time. That's why it would be helpful if you could help identify how John Dorin is connected to you."

"I don't know! I've never met that guy, I don't know where he's from! The only time I ever saw him was when he was killed! And you told me that I almost saw him right before he shot me."

She shoved back from the table and stood up, pacing side to side across from him. Flack made a move to stop her but she skirted away from him into the opposite corner. Mac stayed in his seat and watched her, motioning Flack to return behind him.

"Look Jordan, I understand that this is difficult…"

She abruptly stopped short and whirled to face him, smacking her hand on the table to cut him off. She was shaking slightly with adrenalin, but he could tell that she was more scared than angry.

"No, Mac. You have _no _idea how difficult this is. I get a call from an officer, who tells me I gotta come down and make a positive ID. I get here, and instead of making an ID and being done, you tell me that the person I saw shot dead two days ago was in fact trying to kill me. So now, I'm caught between being terrified that I almost died and feeling guilty that I'm glad the guy who was going to do it is now dead. And now, someone is _still_ trying to kill me, but you have no idea who it is! So no, Mac, you don't know how difficult this is for me." She shoved the table and resumed her agitated pacing.

Mac pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to forget how tired he was. "I'm sorry for what you've had to go through, but you have to understand that we're doing everything we can to find whoever it is that wants to hurt you."

"Wants to kill me, you mean."

Mac sighed. "Yes. But we're going to make sure that doesn't happen. You'll be protected."

Jordan finally stopped moving, standing in the corner breathing heavily from her exertion. "How?"

"We'll assign a protection detail…"

"No, I mean, how are you going to make sure it doesn't happen? How can you protect me from whoever it is, when you don't even know who it is? It could be anybody."

Mac shifted back in his seat and deliberated his next words. Before he could form them, she suddenly understood.

"Wait, you're not going to let me leave, are you? That's why you had me come all the way down here instead of showing me a photo. You're going to keep me here."

"Jordan, at this point we can't risk letting you go home without having some idea of who's after you." He could see that she was beginning to panic.

"No, Mac! No! I'm not going to be locked away like money in a safe, while whoever is trying to kill me gets to roam all over New York. It's not happening!"

She surprised him and Flack by suddenly pushing past them and out the door. Flack made a grab for her, but was too far away. Mac quickly pushed out of his chair and followed her as she ran through the maze of desks in the precinct. He caught her arm right before she reached the door.

"Jordan, listen to me! Your life is in danger. This is serious! You can't go out there, its too dangerous. I can protect you if you'll just…" His last words were too much, and he saw the change come over her face. All that had happened was too much for her to handle and the stress caused her to lash out.

"You can't protect anyone, _Detective._" She sneered out the word. She grabbed the wrist that was holding her arm and pulled his face in until it was inches away from hers. She hissed out her next words so only he could hear. "Jason _died_ because of you. You couldn't protect him, and you can't protect me." She yanked her arm from his grasp while he was stunned by her statement and ran out the door.

It took a moment for him to recover, then he quickly followed her out. She lost a few seconds debating whether to go left or right. He had almost reached her when she took off running down the left sidewalk from the precinct. She had only taken a few steps when glass burst out of the squad car parked in the street a few feet in front of her, and the officer walking beside it jerked and fell to the ground. A moment later, everyone heard the sharp crack of a rifle report. The officers on scene moved in drilled coordination, quickly moving and covering for panicking civilians and ducking for cover.

Jordan stood still, stunned into motionlessness by the sight of the officer on the ground in front of her. Mac had difficulty moving through the people between him and her, forgoing protocol to make sure she was safe. He called her name, trying to get her to duck behind the car. He ran up behind her as she turned toward the sound of his voice. As he reached for her arm, he saw her jerk back and fall, simultaneous with the burn he felt crease his forearm. She jerked again before landing behind the car. He pulled his gun to cover them, but before he could duck behind the cruiser, he felt a massive impact slam into his left bicep. He simultaneously fell and dove behind the car, covering Jordan without directly landing on her.

A quick glance at the officer lying on the sidewalk showed that he was breathing, albeit painfully. The young man was on his back, service pistol in one hand while the other was holding his chest beside where the bullet had impacted his Kevlar vest.

Mac pulled himself into a sitting position behind the wheel of the cruiser, gun held tightly in his right hand. He risked a glance over the hood and was rewarded with two return shots, one thudding into the hood of the car and the other shattering the side mirror, scattering bits of glass over him. He turned to Jordan, who had pushed herself over until she was lying on her left side, feet towards him. He kept his head down and moved over beside her. Her face was pinched and pale, her right arm was tightly curled into her ribs, and her left hand was pressed to her opposite shoulder.

He carefully rolled her onto her back to assess the damage. She had taken two shots; one was a through and through to the muscle of her shoulder, which had grazed his forearm as it passed. The other had impacted underneath her collarbone, and he suspected it was lodged in her shoulder blade. He checked the scene, noticing the cluster of six or seven officers spread around, and holstered his weapon. He pressed the heel of his right hand down hard on her shoulder, trying to stem the blood flow. She made a strained noise as he pressed down.

He was looking around for something to absorb the blood when he felt a hand grip his shoulder. He looked down into Jordan's terrified eyes and felt everything melt away. He could no longer hear the blaring sirens, the people screaming behind him, the officers yelling. He couldn't feel the sluggish flow of blood down his own arm. He couldn't see the officer lying only a few feet away, or watch as Flack organized the officers behind him.

He could only hear the strained breathing of the girl on the ground in front of him, he could only feel the pulse of her heart pushing blood past his fingers. He could only see the tears track down her smudged face, watch the terror in her eyes. She gripped him tight, where his neck met his shoulder, as if he were the only thing keeping her alive. He could only hold on.


	11. A glance behind

_Sixteen-year-old Jordan Gray was late. She had left her house late, again, and she knew her coach would be furious. He was the only one who knew why she had missed two practices this month, why she was late for three more. She really wished he didn't know, because he would get that look in his face that scared her. _

_Sometimes she wished that people would all go away and leave her alone. Then she would think of Jason, and be glad that they didn't. He had been spending the past two days texting her with quotes from Napoleon Dynamite. She always responded that he was an idiot, but honestly he was making her laugh like crazy._

_She pushed through the doors of the stadium, skirting the box office and heading straight for the locker room. The premier U17 soccer team she was on practiced at the stadium instead of a separate facility; convenient for games, not so much for practice. The stadium was huge, and usually empty and creepy, except for the office people and cleaning crew. She picked up speed as she headed for the uniform closet, hoping that she could get her practice jersey and cleats on before her coach noticed she was late. _

_She had one final section to cross when a tall, dark-haired man pushed through the door she was about to enter. He almost knocked her over, but she thought she saw a flash of recognition as he saw her. He took off and she kept running, thinking no more of it. He looked familiar, but so did most of the people she ran past in the stadium. She made it through section 115 before taking a sharp left through a door that read "Authorized Personnel Only"._

_She ran down a long corridor, turning into a hallway before it ended. Breathless, she reached the uniform closet and groaned out loud when she saw the padlock tightly holding it closed. She tugged on it, futilely, and sighed. There was no avoiding it now; she had to go see her coach. He was the only one with the key to open it. Mentally preparing herself, she slung the long strap to her gym bag back across her shoulders and turned back down the hallway. She continued down the corridor, turning left when it ended. She reached the office at the end and sighed, preparing her "I missed the bus" excuse as best as she could. She tapped on the door, which was only open a crack._

_"Coach?"_

_There was no response. She thought that was odd, but tried again._

_"Hey, Coach? You in there?"_

_This time she pushed slightly on the door. _

_"Coach? The closet is locked. I need the key." _

_She pushed the door completely open, stopping in horror at the trails of blood that climbed the walls and spread onto the ceiling. She found herself screaming at the top of her voice, crying as she took in what had happened. She didn't remember pulling her phone out and dialing, but she pulled herself together enough to tell the calm voice of the 911 operator that she thought someone was dead at the stadium. She hoped she was wrong. She zoned out in shock as people came rushing to find the cause of her scream, someone pulled her down the hall and sat her in a chair. She knew that nothing could take the image of her bloody coach out of her mind. She knew she could never forget the knife sticking out of his chest. She would never, ever forget the blood leaking from his stabbed ear._

* * *

_Detective Mac Taylor stepped out of his truck, sighing because crime had put a blight on an otherwise beautiful day. The weather was perfect, the crisp New York breeze promising warm weather soon, along with the blooming trees in Central Park. Mac was looking forward to spring after a long, dank winter. Instead, he adjusted his collar against the wind, and headed into the sports complex of the stadium. An unusual amount of cleaning staff and what appeared to be office workers stood outside the hallway blocked by crime scene tape. He never ceased to be amazed at how people could pay so much attention to a crime. He met Detective Don Flack as he ducked under the tape._

_"Here's what I know, Mac. Our victim is Silas Jones. He's the head coach for the premier team that plays out of this stadium, evidently the U17 team. Now, U17 means…"_

_Mac cut him off. "It means that all the members of the team are seventeen-years-old or under. Typically, leagues of this quality have a two year age difference on any of their teams, meaning that all players are sixteen or seventeen when they make it on."_

_Flack stared at him. "You know, sometimes I hate it when you do that."_

_Mac just smiled. "Are there any witnesses?"_

_Flack turned to his notes. "No one saw the murder, or a suspect. He was found by one of his players, um, Jordan Gray. Danny tried talking to her, didn't get anywhere. She's pretty shaken up. Other than that, no one saw anything out of the ordinary."_

_"Except a dead body."_

_"Right, except that. Evidently, this is a busy place during the day. Lots of people come and go, including delivery men, servicemen, and any member of the twelve different sports teams that operate out of this stadium." Flack shook his head. "This is gonna be a tough one, Mac."_

_Mac thought so too, but didn't voice his thoughts. He had noticed at least four possible exits on his way in, plenty of different ways the killer could get in and out without causing alarm. He noticed a girl in athletic clothes sitting in a chair in the hallway, about twenty feet outside the primary crime scene. She was staring at the door to the office, which was now blocked by officers and several of Mac's CSIs. She wasn't responding to the officer attempting to speak to her. Mac doubted she even noticed he was there._

_"Who's that?"_

_Flack glanced up. "That's the girl who found him, Jordan Gray." _

_Mac glanced at the wall in the hallway. A billboard held the team's schedule, as well as a photo roster. He noticed that the socks worn in the photo matched the one the girl was wearing. He also noted the stark contrast of the grinning girl in the photo to the shell-shocked one before him now. _

_"Mac?" Flack was trying to get his attention._

_"I'll talk to the witness, see if I can get anything out of her." He called Danny over and handed him the camera. "Go ahead and start photographing, make sure you get the body's position. Check to see if anything's missing. I'm going to see what the witness has to say." _

_Danny nodded and took the camera. "Good luck. I think she's in shock, she couldn't tell me much."_

_Danny headed back into the office and Flack left to coordinate his canvasing, taking the officer talking to Jordan with him. Mac set down his kit a few feet away and carefully approached the girl. _

_"Hello." As he expected, she gave no response. He moved in front of her, cutting off her line of sight to the crime scene. She glanced in his general direction, but mainly kept staring straight. When he got close enough, he noticed she was hugging her arms, covered in goose bumps. _

_"Hey, you're shivering. Here." He slid out of his windbreaker, which had CSI:NY stamped across the back, and slid it around her shoulders, tugging it into place in front of her. She finally responded, one small hand sliding out to grip the lapel and pull it closer to her. Mac squatted in front of her, still blocking her view, but closer to her eye line. "Are you ok? Are you hurt?" He adjusted the jacket so it covered her further. _

_She finally looked him in the face. "Who are you?"_

_He pulled his badge from his belt. "My name is Mac Taylor. I'm a detective with the NYPD Crime Lab."_

_She looked at his badge, then back at his face. "What's a crime lab?"_

_He smiled. Evidently, she was only focusing on small issues right now. He knew for some witnesses, the big picture was too overwhelming all at once. _

_"It's where all the evidence from a crime goes to be analyzed; fingerprints, fibers, trace, DNA. That's where my team, including myself, will put the pieces together to determine all the aspect of a crime."_

_She pointed to his badge. "I thought you were a cop."_

_"I am a cop. I'm what is known as a Crime Scene Investigator, I'm the kind of cop that figures out what happened at the scene of a crime."_

_She looked past his head to the office behind him. "Can you figured out who killed Coach?"_

_"I'm going to try."_

_He saw her eyes start to unfocus again, so he grabbed her chair and turned it sideways, facing the side wall. She jolted in surprise, placing one hand on his shoulder for balance. He could tell that he had startled her, but he also had her attention. He held the shoulder of the jacket out until she slid her arm into the sleeve, so that she was wearing the jacket rather than it be draped around her. He pulled up another chair so they faced each other and sat down in front of her. _

_"Miss, I know that this is difficult, but I'm going to need you to tell me everything you know."_

_She nodded. "My name's Jordan, by the way. Jordan Gray." She held out a shaky hand, barely poking out of a too-long sleeve. He grasped it firmly, holding it between both of his in a comforting gesture. She took a shuddering breath, glanced once more at the office, then turned back and began to talk. _

_"I was late. We were supposed to have practice at 2:00, but I missed my bus." Her eyes welled up. "So stupid."_

_He gently touched her arm to bring her focus back. "It's ok, just take your time."_

_She shook her head. "I already took my time today. Now I'm just being useless." She brushed at her eyes and sniffed. "I went to the uniform closet to get my practice gear but it was locked. Coach has the only key, so I came here to get it. I knocked, but he didn't answer so I just opened the door. That's when…" she gestured at the office. _

_"Did you see anyone come out of the office?"_

_"No."_

_"Was anyone in the hallway, or down the corridor?"_

_"No, it was empty. I just thought that everyone was already at practice; we're the only team here on Wednesdays. Coach usually spends the first twenty minutes or so in his office, going over drills. We have a warm-up routine that we do without him."_

_"Is he usually alone during that time."_

_She started to speak, then looked thoughtful. "I actually don't know. I'm usually warming up then." She looked back at his face. "Sorry, I'm not sure."_

_He smiled. "That's ok. Now, did you notice anyone leaving as you were coming in? Did you see anyone acting strangely?"_

_"No."_

_He turned to his notes._

_"Wait, yes. Yes!"_

_His head snapped up. "You saw someone?"_

_She was nodding excitedly. "When I was on my way in, I had to pass through the stadium. There was a guy who almost knocked me over on his way out. I didn't think anything of it, but I don't think he works here."_

_"Can you describe him?"_

_"Um, tall. He had dark hair and brown eyes. I think he recognized me."_

_Mac felt worried. "Why do you think that? Did he say something?"_

_"No, he just seemed like he knew what I looked like. I've never met him, I'm sure of it. But we're one of the top teams in our league, plus our picture is all over the stadium advertisements. I think he just knew me from the team."_

_Mac kept scribbling down notes, asking more questions that Jordan increasingly couldn't answer. He could tell she was getting frustrated, but the way she kept apologizing told him that she wished she had noticed more. He noticed that when she was distracted from the crime scene, a rather happy and lighthearted nature came to light, only to be cruelly buried when the impact of what had happened came rushing back. Finally, he flipped his notebook shut._

_"Ok, I'm going to have an officer take you home. Is there anyone there? I don't think you should be alone right now."_

_His statement obviously surprised her, then he saw her smile. "My boyfriend gets off work soon, he'll come over."_

_He nodded, and escorted her down the hallway to where Flack was standing on the edge of the crime scene tape._

_"This is Detective Flack. He'll take you home and get your contact information. Tomorrow, he'll take your written statement at the precinct." _

_She nodded and started to walk off. "Oh, your jacket." She began to take it off, but he stopped her._

_"Take it. You're still shivering. You can bring it tomorrow, Flack will get it to me."_

_She smiled at him again, and burrowed slightly into the warmth of it. He was about to turn back when her voice stopped him._

_"Detective?" He turned to face her. She looked hesitant to ask her question. "Do you…Do you really think that my testimony will help?" _

_He smiled at her and gently gripped her shoulder. "Absolutely."_


	12. Out of the frying pan

Jordan gripped Mac's shoulder as hard as she could, trying to offset the pain coming from her opposite arm. Everything had gone by in a blur. She had been upset, scared by the information Mac had given her, and like an idiot she had run off. She had rushed down the sidewalk when suddenly glass was breaking, people were screaming, and gunshots were raining down. She had seen a young officer collapse from a bullet and had been too stunned to move. She thought that Mac was calling her name, but she suddenly was blindsided by what felt like a semi-truck plowing through her shoulder and the next thing she knew, she was on the ground.

He was there again, turning her over and pressing hard on her injured shoulder. She had locked eyes with him for a long time; she was panicking, she knew that, and he had grounded her. Now he was distracted by the chaos around them, pushing her further behind the cruiser and ducking out of the line of fire. He was talking to her the whole time, repeating that everything would be all right, telling her not to worry. What struck her was that, in this moment of panic and pain, she didn't see her life flash before her eyes or even feel scared for the future beyond her immediate condition. She only felt regret, as she looked into his kind, blue eyes and saw only concern for her safety and determination to fix the problem. She regretted the years of bitterness that she had harbored toward someone who had only tried to help her.

She knew that her rational brain would come back later, accusing him for Jason's death and all the problems that had come after. She knew that she would again be angry with him for what he had done, what he had made her do. But in that one moment of screams and blood and pain, she wished she hadn't pushed him away, that he had been a part of her life. Mac interrupted her thoughts when he shook her uninjured arm gently, keeping steady pressure on her right shoulder.

"Jordan? Focus, Jordan; focus on me."

She turned back to him, her movements becoming easier as she recovered from shock. She focused her attention on him, finally realizing that he had been communicating with SWAT for a few minutes now.

"Jordan, I need you to sit up. Can you do that?"

She nodded, gripping his shoulder again and pulling as he lifted her shoulder carefully. He propped her back against the patrol car, sliding off his tie and quickly tightening the material against her arm. She hissed as he pulled it tight, trying not to black out at the rush of pain that flowed down her chest.

"Easy, take it easy. Just breathe. C'mon, breathe."

She gave a shaky exhale, trying to match his motions as he breathed out a steady pattern.

"Jordan, this is going to be tough, but we've got to make it back inside." He indicated about thirty feet behind them to the entrance of the precinct. Officers in tactical gear had set up a controlled zone leading in and out. Cruisers were parked in strategic positions, blocking the street and covering the officers from the line of fire. She wondered for how long she had zoned out. Her attention snapped back to him when he shook her again.

"Jordan, listen to me. Do you think you can walk?"

She didn't, but she nodded anyway. He gestured to someone out of her sight, making some kind of hand gesture that looked like sign language. A few moments later, two SWAT team members arrived with shields, positioning themselves to block where the shots had come from. Mac pulled her to him, holding her left side and one arm behind her back to support her. He pushed them both to their feet in one swift movement, staying low to be concealed by the shields. He quickly moved her down the sidewalk, their movements mimicked by the officers for cover.

They were almost to the door when a lone bullet impacted the shield closest to Mac's head. The officer jolted from the impact, the other moved to cover them, SWAT members yelled out directions, and Mac practically sprinted the last few steps to get them inside the precinct. Once inside, he relaxed his tight grip and they both stood upright.

The precinct was chaotic; desks had been shoved aside where paramedics had set up a triage station, others were clumped together in an obvious command center. Flack was standing in the center of the room, shouting into his radio and organizing the constant flow of policemen. He had shed his suit coat and had a bulletproof vest strapped to his chest, his badge hanging from a chain in front. He turned when he saw them, grateful surprise spreading over his face for a few seconds, only to be replaced with determination.

"Mac!" He pushed through the crowd to reach them, both standing out of the way of the tactical team pushing through the doors. He grabbed Mac's shoulder as if to prove he was still there. "Man, you had me worried. I can't get an accurate read on who's active out there, the channels are getting flooded. I'm glad you're alright." He squeezed his shoulder, but stopped when Mac flinched. His hand trailed down to the torn sleeve of Mac's jacket. "Mac, you're bleeding. Did you get hit?" Jordan's head whipped around at his statement, she had evidently not known about that.

"I think it's just a graze, it'll be fine. Jordan needs EMS, she took two."

Flack nodded. "I think you both do. C'mon." He led them further into the precinct, toward the paramedics. "Hey, these two are top priority. Both of them sustained GSWs."

Jordan was shaking. She wasn't feeling much from her shoulder, just cold. She heard the paramedics talking to Mac but didn't register their words. She could only see the officer getting gunned down in front of her, over and over. She vaguely heard Mac turning their attention to her. He had been the biggest cause for worry, coming in soaked in blood from multiple locations. One paramedic stayed on him, examining his arm, while the other turned to Jordan. She heard their voices but didn't understand the words. Finally, she heard Mac's voice cutting through the fog in her head.

"Jordan. Hey, Jordan."

She looked up at him.

"They want to know how you're feeling."

She glanced at the patient face of the medic, then focused back on him.

"Like crap."

He smiled. "Are you dizzy? Lightheaded? Is your vision blurry?"

She tried to concentrate, but couldn't. "I can't... think."

"It's ok, that's common. Your brain is trying to process everything." A paramedic must have asked him a question because he paused for a moment, then turned back to her. "Ok, you need to tell me if you have blurred vision."

She shook her head.

"Ok, good. That's good. Do you feel lightheaded, like you're about to faint?"

She shook her head again. Awareness started to come back to her, as if she was surfacing from being underwater. She realized that she was clenching his arm tightly in her hand. She heard the paramedic talking to Mac, saying "Ask her where her strongest source of pain is."

She turned to the medic before Mac could speak. "My shoulder, the right one."

The medic nodded, beginning to unwrap Mac's blood-soaked tie from around her arm. He turned back to Mac. "I gave her a painkiller, she won't feel much in a few minutes."

Jordan glared at him. "She can hear you."

He turned back to her. "So she can. You had me worried there for a minute." He quickly began to pack gauze against her shoulder, causing her to hiss. "The blood is starting to clot, that's a good sign. But we only have one exit wound. We need to get you to a hospital."

"No!"

He looked up in surprise at her outburst. She grabbed Mac's shoulder, pulling him around to face her. "I can't go to a hospital, Mac! What if this" she glanced around the room "happens again?"

"Jordan…"

"No, Mac. You said yourself, you don't know who's doing this. I can't go, it's not safe."

Flack came walking up in time to hear her statement. He looked between her and Mac.

"What's going on?"

She shook her head. "I can't go!"

Flack caught on to her meaning. "Whoa, whoa! Wait a minute, you can't just ignore a gunshot wound. You need medical attention, Jordan. For God's sake, you're bleeding!"

She stared up at him. "I can't go back out there, Flack."

Mac didn't say anything, thoughtfully looking into the distance. Flack noticed his lack of response. "Mac, c'mon. You're not going to let her do this, are you? She needs to get checked out."

Mac looked up at him. "Have we found the shooter?'

Flack sighed. "We have SWAT deployed, searching buildings in an outward sweep from here. So far nothing, and there haven't been any shots since…" he glanced at Jordan and sighed. "Since you two came into the building."

Jordan stared at both of them, looking terrified. The paramedic looked at her shoulder, watching the bloodstain getting slowly bigger as he began taping the gauze on tighter. Flack stared at Mac, feeling as though he wouldn't like what he had to say.

Mac glanced at the medic, then Jordan, and finally up at Flack.

"We're going to need a body bag."

* * *

The coroner's van pulled away from the side entrance to the precinct. No one had seen anything out of the ordinary as the Medical Examiner's assistant had wheeled the gurney out of the exit, the obviously filled body bag strapped on top. No one had thought that a man wearing a crime scene jacket accompanying the body was unusual. No one even gave the patrol car a second thought as it followed the van through the city streets to the morgue. Only when the gurney was wheeled inside autopsy, the body bag unzipped, and the girl inside it sat up did anyone think something was odd. But by then, only a few morgue assistants noticed, and they were quietly told by the head of the New York Crime Lab to continue with their work.

Dr. Sid Hammerback carefully helped Jordan climb out of the bag and off the gurney. He led her to an autopsy table that was situated the furthest from the open glass walls. He noticed the perturbed look on her face as she looked at the row of tables.

"Oh, here. Um, hold on for a second."

He dug in a side drawer and pulled out a clean sheet. He spread it across the table and helped her sit on top. Despite his attempt to distract her from the function of the autopsy table, he could see that she was still slightly disturbed. He was grateful when Mac walked over.

"Hey, you said you didn't want to go to a hospital. This is the next best thing."

She looked around. "Or the next stop from there."

Sid laughed at her joke, startling her. She finally registered him and relaxed further as she took in his unthreatening appearance. "Hi, I'm Jordan. You must be… Sheldon?"

"Ah, no. Sid Hammerback, at your service, Madam." He grandly took her hand and shook it as if she were a debutante, making her giggle slightly. "Sheldon should be on his way. In fact, " Sid pointed to the door as Hawkes came through "he's here now."

Hawkes came over to the small group, taking in the empty bag and both Mac and Jordan's bloodied and bandaged appearances. "How you doing, Mac? You ok?"

Mac nodded. "Just a graze, I'll be fine. She, however, is a different story." He turned a serious look to Hawkes. "Let's hope your surgical skills aren't too rusty, Doc."

Hawkes smiled. "I guess we'll find out." He began taking off his coat, grabbing a pair of gloves. "Sid, we'll need to get some X-rays before we begin."

Sid nodded, walking off to collect his sensors. Mac put his good hand on Jordan's shoulder. "Jordan, why don't you lie down? They're going to see where the bullet is, and try to get it out. But if there's too much damage, or if they can't get it, we'll have to risk going to a hospital."

She nodded, leaning over until she was lying on the table, swinging her legs across to lie on her left side. Mac sat on the next table across from her, sighing deeply as he took weight off his feet. His arm was throbbing, despite the painkillers, and he was trying hard not to fall asleep. He started when Sheldon came up to him suddenly, now in a pair of ME scrubs.

"While Sid takes her scans, let's take a look at that 'graze' you have."

He slid the reluctant Mac out of his dress shirt, leaving him in his black undershirt. He cut up the sleeve to examine Mac's bicep, still sluggishly oozing blood. "Mac, this is a through-and-through, not a graze. I'm surprised EMS didn't take you straight to the hospital, you could've gone into shock from blood loss."

Mac gestured at Jordan, who was focused on Sid's careful movements as he examined her. "Didn't really have a choice."

Hawkes looked back at her, then spoke quietly to Mac. "Do we really think this was another attempt to kill her?"

Mac matched his quiet tone. "Undoubtedly. As soon she left the precinct, shots were fired only in her direction. The other officer that was hit was two feet in front of her, I was right behind her. She took two shots, and three more were fired her way after she was down. One hit me, the other two hit the car she was behind. The last shot fired at the scene hit the bulletproof shield covering us. This was a deliberate and targeted attack. Someone knew where she was, they were waiting for her."

Hawkes began to prepare Mac's bullet wound for stitches. "Mac, why not just take her to a hospital? Surely, if we were to secure a surgery room, have officers posted, it would be safe?"

Mac winced as Hawkes began stitching. "We thought the precinct would be safe." He nodded in her direction. "Look what happened."

He nodded as he processed Mac's statement. "So is the plan to act like she was killed?"

"For now, anyway. The shooter took a shot as we were entering the precinct, so it may not work. Until he's in custody, we keep her out of the normal channels. For now, our only defense is that no one knows where she is."

Hawkes continued to work on Mac, glancing back once or twice to watch Sid beginning the necessary scans while Jordan watched in tired interest. "How's she doing? Is she ok? I mean, aside from the obvious."

Mac watched her ask Sid questions about his machines, who was only to happy to answer. "She's scared. A few moments after she learned someone tried to kill her, she gets shot in front of a police station. She was going in and out of shock for awhile. She didn't respond to the paramedics, they would ask her questions and she didn't even seem to hear them." He shook his head. "She's terrified."

He nodded, finishing up Mac's arm and bandaging it back up. He turned to Sid who was examining the monitors with Jordan's data.

"What're we looking at, Sid?"

"Good news, the bullet missed the scapula and clavicle. It subluxated the AC joint of the shoulder and lodged in this muscle group here. It shouldn't be difficult to retrieve."

"Excellent. I think we can use a local anesthesia, since the paramedics already gave her morphine."

Mac stood up slowly, walking over to the table where Jordan looked to be on the verge of falling asleep. "Good. I'm going up to the lab, see what Danny has been working on and I need to assign someone to collect evidence from the precinct. I'll be back in about a half hour."

Sid and Hawkes nodded, already turning back to the screen to discuss their plan. Mac turned to leave but was stopped when a small hand grabbed his.

"Mac?"

He looked down into Jordan's eyes. She smiled.

"Thanks."

He squeezed her hand as her eyes closed, finally resting. He carefully set down her hand and walked out of the lab, concentrating on finding the man responsible for the bullets they had taken and making him pay for his crime.


	13. Scratch the surface

_Detective Mac Taylor looked through the two-way mirror into the interview room. Don Flack was sitting across from the witness, Jordan Gray, who was supposed to be writing out her statement. From Mac's perspective, the two were chatting more than going over her witness account. Flack's easygoing personality had evidently put Jordan at ease; she was smiling more than she had the previous day. _

_He rapped on the window to get Flack's attention, stepping out into the hallway. Flack stepped out a moment later._

_"Hey."_

_Mac nodded back at the interview room. "Was she able to give you anything?"_

_"About the same as what she told you, just a little clearer on the times. I got a sketch artist coming in, hopefully she'll be able to give an accurate sketch of our suspect."_

_"What do you think of her?"_

_Flack shook his head. "She's grieving. She's calmer today, but yesterday her emotions were all over the place. I don't think she had anything to do with this."_

_Mac nodded. "I agree."_

_"Well, she should be about done with her statement. Honestly, Mac, it's not much. Like I said, this one's gonna be tough."_

_"Sometimes, all we can do is follow the evidence and hope it leads us somewhere. I got Danny and Adam processing what we have so far. Meanwhile, I have to ask your witness a few questions." Mac gave him an amused glance. "From what I observed, she wasn't exactly questioned in a distraction-free environment."_

_Flack just grinned. "What can I say? I'm a natural conversationalist." _

_Mac smiled and followed Flack back into the interview room. Jordan looked up as they came in, grinning as she saw Mac._

_"Detective Taylor. It's nice to see you again. I, uh, have something for you." She reached down next to the bag at her feet and pulled up his jacket, nicely folded. He smiled as he took it, noticing the change in her demeanor today. It was obvious from her slightly red eyes and drawn look that she was still grieving, but he was catching glimpses of her bright personality peeking through. _

_"Thank you. Miss Gray, I have a few questions to ask you if I may."_

_"Please, call me Jordan. 'Miss Gray' kinda creeps me out." _

_He smiled at her expression. "Jordan. I noticed a couple inconsistencies at the crime scene that I'm hoping you can help me figure out."_

_She sat up straighter at the table and folded her hands on top of it. "What kind of inconsistencies?" _

_"There is evidence of someone else in the office after the victim was killed. Did you ever go into the office?"_

_Her happy demeanor was starting to fade. "No. I pushed the door open and Coach was…" she trailed off and coughed. "Sorry. Coach was sticking out from behind the desk. I knew he was dead, but I couldn't bring myself to check." She dropped her head. _

_Mac's voice softened. "You called 911, you did the right thing. Don't blame yourself, there wasn't anything you could have done."_

_She looked up. "I feel like I should have done more. Like, if I had only been there on time. Or if I had just checked to see if he was alive."_

_"If you were there on time, you would have been out with your team. Right now, the man you saw leaving is our only lead. You showing up late is the only reason we have that lead."_

_She nodded, but he could tell she wasn't convinced._

_"Do you know if anyone else went in the office after you found him?"_

_She cocked her head slightly. "Maybe. I don't really remember much, I barely remember calling 911. I think that Mrs. Miller may have gone in, she's the press assistant for the stadium. Oh, and maybe Scott."_

_"Scott who?"_

_"Um, Barclay? Or Baker. Or Brantley, something like that. He's the athletic trainer. Yeah, I'm pretty sure he went in, cuz I remember being glad that he was there; if anyone could've helped, it'd be Scott." _

_"Why do you say that?"_

_"Cuz he's the trainer, he has medical experience. He helped me when I pulled my Achilles' tendon a few months ago."_

_Mac nodded, writing down the info, and made a mental note to find out where the trainer was the day before. He pulled out a few photos of the crime scene, all carefully chosen to have no view of the body and as little blood as possible._

_"Can you tell me if anyone was in this section of the office?" The picture was of the opposite wall where the body was found. A file cabinet had a bloody smudge, but no cast off._

_"No, I don't know for certain, but I don't know why anyone would be there. That's all player files."_

_"Would anyone want to access those after the coach was killed? Is there any sensitive or personal information, something that people in the office wouldn't want known?"_

_She shook her head. "I don't think so. I saw mine, once. It was just basic info, name and address and progress reports. There might be medical stuff from the physical, but nothing sensitive."_

_Mac nodded, sliding the picture back into the folder. As he began to pull another out, a second photo slid onto the table unintentionally. He had meant to ask Flack if he could determine what the object was, since no one in the lab had been able to so far. Jordan stopped the picture from sliding and glanced down at it._

_"That's weird. What was a spike doing there?"_

_Mac's head snapped up. The photo showed an odd shaped metal piece lying on the floor of the office, a measuring square placed next to it for size reference. The object had a section like a screw on one end and the blood pattern showed it had been there before the murder. _

_"Do you know what that is?"_

_She nodded, holding the picture in her hands. "Yeah, it's a spike. It goes on the bottom of track shoes, adds friction to improve your speed. See here?" She turned the picture towards him, indicating the screw-like section. "That fastens into the sole of the shoe. But I don't know why it would be at the stadium."_

_"Because he was a soccer coach?"_

_She smiled. "No, because it's all indoors. Spikes are for outdoor competition; they're designed for the thicker tracks. Indoor they use studs instead. Those are everywhere inside the stadium, soccer office or not. Studs fall off easily, or the runners lose them when they're taking them off and they end up in the weirdest places. But I don't know why a spike would be there." _

_She handed the photo back. Mac took it, already making mental connections on how to proceed with the information. He was about to ask her about another photo when a commotion from outside became increasingly louder. He turned to Flack, who was moving to check it out when the door burst open and a good-looking man in his early forties forcefully entered the room. He was tall and trim with dark hair and blue eyes. He had a face that had obviously helped him charm his way in life, but Mac saw only coldness. He saw cold, blue eyes that calculated and a cold smile that wasn't genuine. He frowned as the man spoke in a cold voice that wouldn't consider being opposed._

_"Detectives. I'm wondering why you would forgo protocol in such a difficult case by not having an attorney present when you're questioning a witness. An underage witness, I might add."_

_Mac stood up, his face blank but hard, as he addressed the man. "I don't see how that is any of your concern, Mr…?"_

_The man gave another cold smile. "Mr. Gray. I'm Jordan's father, and attorney. And we're leaving."_

_"Mr. Gray, your daughter is a witness in a murder investigation. We're hoping that she can help us in identifying a suspect."_

_Mr. Gray cut him off. "My daughter is a victim, Detective. She just lost her coach and she is grieving. I hardly see what help she can provide that the other witnesses at the scene cannot. Plus, you have unlawfully questioned her without her attorney present…"_

_This time Mac sternly cut him off. "She is old enough to give a statement without a parent present, and she was informed of her right to have an attorney present, which she declined. She…"_

_"Which only goes to further my point. My daughter is grieving, and she needs time to heal. If you have any further questions, you may contact my office." He held out a business card to Mac, showing the information of the law office of Conner, Gray, and Wright. Mac was about to throw the card down and lose his temper at the man, when he saw Jordan unobtrusively writing on the back of her witness statement. She flipped the paper back over just as her father turned and looked at her._

_"Jordan, get your things. We're leaving," he turned to face Mac "now."_

_Mac clenched the muscles in his jaw in frustration, noticing Flack making a fist out of the corner of his eye. The only thing that kept his temper in check was when Jordan quietly tapped the edge of her statement, glancing meaningfully in his direction. She picked up her bag and slid into her jacket, standing behind her father and looking slightly embarrassed._

_Mac held up the business card. "My lab will be in contact. There are a lot of loose ends in the investigation, I'm looking forward to your 'assistance' in this." He let a hint of sarcasm into his last sentence, hoping to get the meaning across that he wasn't about to be intimidated out of getting information. "My colleague, Detective Flack, will get the proper paperwork for you, as an attorney for a witness." Mr. Gray gave him an uncertain glance, but said nothing. Flack gave his pissed-off smile. "Gladly." He left the room, heading towards his desk._

_Mr. Gray gave Mac a withering stare for a few moments. He turned to leave, stopping short when Jordan stayed behind to say something to Mac. She was about to speak when her father gripped her bicep tightly. Too tightly, in Mac's opinion. _

_"Jordan, we need to get you home. You've been through a lot." His tone held a threat. Mac's insides ran cold at the look he gave her, at the long tan fingers tightly closed around her arm, but mostly at the way Jordan shrank into herself at his touch. She immediately complied with him as he guided her out of the room, pausing only to grab the paperwork from Flack. Mac followed them out, watching them as they walked out of the precinct; her father's grip never left her arm._

_Flack shook his head. "That guy is trouble, no question."_

_Mac didn't' respond. Flack turned to look at him. "You know what, Mac? I bet he told her not to come in and give a statement. That no-good scum would rather a murderer walk free than get involved in solving a case."_

_Mac finally nodded. "I agree, I'm sure he told her not to come." Suddenly, he turned to Flack. "Her statement." He quickly moved back into the room, with Flack following him. He picked up the statement she had filled out, flipping it over to read the back. He smirked as he turned it so Flack could read the note scribbled there. She had written a phone number on the back; directly below it read 'if u have Q's.'_

_Flack smiled. "Thank goodness it's not 'Like father, like daughter.' I guess she's still willing to help us out." He took the statement, heading back towards his desk. _

_Mac stared at the door to the precinct, where she and her father had disappeared. "But at what cost?"_


	14. Evidence of slow motion

Sheldon Hawkes stared at the scanner results and sighed. Jordan's shoulder had been torn apart. He found it miraculous that her bones were still intact, but the muscles were another story. She would be in pain for weeks, plus several months of physical therapy afterwards. He looked across autopsy at the table where she was lying. Sid had given her a sedative to ensure that she would sleep, and he was currently hooking up another bag of saline solution that the paramedics had sent to her IV.

Hawkes stared at the rifle bullet in the evidence container. He knew that he should rush the bullet to ballistics, but he was having a difficult time moving past the fact that he had pulled it out of an eighteen-year-old girl. It was moments like this that made him remember why he had left his job at the hospital. Sid walked up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"You ok?"

Hawkes nodded. "I just don't understand, Sid. What could she have possibly done to make someone do this?" He gestured to the scan of her injured arm. Sid pulled his glasses apart, connecting them again in front of his eyes.

"It certainly speaks to some sort of retribution. Maybe she saw something that she wasn't meant to. Is it in any way connected to the shooting of John Dorin, from two days ago?"

"Nah, the pieces don't fit. That was a robbery gone bad, plus the killer was dead at the time of this shooting."

Sid nodded. "Well, with the lack of any additional evidence, I can only say that it must go back to knowledge of some sort. She evidently knows something that is worth killing for, at least in the mind of the shooter. She may not even be aware of what the information is." He patted Hawkes' shoulder. "I don't think that was what you wanted to hear."

He smiled gratefully at Sid. "The only thing I want to hear right now is that she's safe to go home." They both turned to look at her as she slept, her pale skin eerily similar to the normal morgue occupants. The only difference in this one was the steady rhythm of her breathing as she slept. Sid was the first to break the silence.

"Did you know her before, from two years ago?"

Hawkes shook his head. "It wasn't my case. I saw her once in Mac's office, but I never spoke to her until today."

Sid turned to lean against the table. "That's what's puzzling me. What is her connection to Mac? No one seems to know."

"I'm the last person to ask, Sid. All I know is that Mac got close to her because she was helping in a case. I always thought there might have been something else, but I could never figure out what it was."

Sid pushed off the table, tapping the monitor to bring up a set of pictures. "Well, Mac definitely got close today. Based on Jordan's height and the angle of this through-and-through," he tapped a photo of Jordan's shoulder, then pulled up a picture of Mac's forearm "the trajectory is a match to the bullet that grazed Mac's arm."

"See, that's what worries me, Sid. Mac told me that a passing officer took one round in his vest, plus the bullet that went through Mac's arm proves that this guy is willing to shoot anyone, including cops, to hit his target."

Sid nodded and pulled up another picture, this one a wide shot of Jordan's bullet wounds. "And I can tell you this, based on the multiple shots and wide range of hits, this guy is not a professional. This time of year, sitting out in the cold and then firing a gun on a windy day, it isn't as easy to hit a moving target as you might think. I would be willing to speculate that our shooter is a skilled marksman, but not experienced in combat or even hunting, based on the mere fact that Jordan survived two shots."

Hawkes nodded, getting more energetic as he processed Sid's theory. "So we may be looking at someone who would spend time at a gun range, rather than real life experience. That's good thinking, Sid. That, combined with whatever I can get off this bullet, may lead us to our shooter. I'll get this to ballistics."

He started to rush out, like he always would do when discovering evidence from an autopsy, then remembered that this victim was still alive.

"Oh, wait. Jordan…"

Sid waved him away. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on her. Mac posted an officer from the precinct to monitor who's coming in and out, she'll be safe here."

Hawkes nodded, satisfied, and left with his mind already working out possible connections to the bullet, the shooter, and whoever wanted Jordan dead.

* * *

Jo exited the elevator and stopped short upon seeing Mac sitting at his desk in his office. She felt a surge of concern and irritation rush through her as she watched him, then she collected herself and sailed through his office door. On a normal day, she would have startled him or he would have seen her coming long before she made it through the door. His delayed surprise at her entrance worried her.

"Mac? What on earth are you doing here? You need to be at a hospital, or at the very least at home, resting. For God's sake, Mac, someone tried to kill you!"

He raised tired eyes to meet hers, making her feel slightly guilty for her energetic charge.

"Someone tried killing Jordan. I just got in the way."

His familiar smirk calmed her rush of emotions, removing the panic but leaving open concern.

"Mac, I'm serious. You're hurt; Sheldon told me you took two bullets."

"Just one, Jo. The other is just a graze."

She crossed her arms across her chest, putting everything into her body language to show him that she wasn't about to be placated.

"That's two bullets, wounding you." Her face softened when his expression tightened in pain as he shifted to fully face her. "Mac, I'm just concerned."

He nodded, taking in her words. "I appreciate that, Jo. I really do. And I'm not neglecting my injuries. I just want to find out how someone would go from a 9mil in an alley to firing on a precinct with a rifle, just to kill an eighteen-year-old girl."

Jo's response was cut off when Lindsay entered the office from the back hallway, carrying a mug of tea and a protein bar. She handed both to Mac, staring pointedly at him until he stood up and carried them to the couch facing his desk. He gave her a fond look of exasperation until she handed him the results in her other hand.

"Ballistics came back on the rifle bullets, no match in IBIS."

He took a sip of tea before responding. "That's not surprising, nothing about this shooting says 'professional'. Did Flack's canvasing turn up anything?"

"No suspects, but they found the sniper's perch. Danny took Adam to go process the precinct, so I'm on my way to process the shooter's location."

"Jo, you go with her. Finding this guy is top priority. I don't want an active shooter in this city, especially one that still has a live target."

Jo nodded, and turned to leave. She paused with her hand on the door. "Be careful, Mac. We need you to be healthy. Please get some rest soon."

He passed a hand over his eyes. "Believe me, I will. Very soon."

She nodded, and left to collect her kit. Lindsay fidgeted a bit, enough to get Mac's attention.

"You have something else?"

She shook her head. "I'm just wondering, what is the connection to Jordan's father?"

Mac sighed and sank back into his seat. "At the moment, purely circumstantial. He has solid alibies for the past two days and the only thing that links him to any of this is his business card in the pocket of his client."

"Which doesn't prove anything, just that John Dorin carried the card. It doesn't prove that it was her father that wrote the instructions or gave him the picture."

Mac nodded. "I didn't tell her. Until we can definitively prove his connection, we have to leave him out as a suspect." He looked up at her. "Go process the scene. Let's find this guy, see what the connection is, and we'll follow it to the one pulling all the strings." He assigned a list of lab techs to help Danny process the precinct, and a few more to help her. She took down the names, gathered her results, and hugged him gently before leaving the office.

He spent a few minutes sitting in silence, finishing his tea and eating as he ran through the probable connections to Jordan's father in his head. He couldn't establish a definite motive, and the only thing he could speculate made him extremely nervous. He glanced at his watch, and carefully got to his feet. He had an appointment at the morgue; time to wake the dead.


	15. Nowhere new

_Detective Mac Taylor stepped off the elevator and immediately turned left. Danny had called, saying that he had results on evidence collected from the stadium crime scene but cautioned Mac that he wasn't going to like it. Mac was starting to make a list of things regarding this case that he really didn't like. His long stride was matched halfway down the hallway by Stella._

_"Hey Mac, thanks for the tip. I don't know how you figured it out, but you were right. This is definitely a spike from a track shoe."_

_Mac glanced at the tablet in her hand with her results. "I happen to have a source."_

_She tapped on the crime scene image to make it larger. "Well, your source may have helped us figure out what it is, but it turned into one big dead end. This happens to be the most common piece of track equipment known to the United States. It's virtually impossible to trace."_

_"Any idea on how equipment from an outdoor sport ended up at an indoor stadium?"_

_"No. Whoever told you about that was correct; this kind of spike is used solely for outdoor competition, so I checked the stadium regulations. Did you know there is an actual rule which prevents this little piece of metal from being worn inside the stadium?" She grinned at the incredulous look he gave her. "Oh yes. A few years ago, they spent a small fortune redoing the surface of the indoor track; now it's policy that the runners can only use studs," she pulled up another photo on her tablet "which are also known as blanks. And even those are only allowed on the track and practice area."_

_"So how did this piece of equipment end up inside the office of a coach from a completely different sport inside a building that doesn't allow them?"_

_She grinned as she turned off toward her office. "You always give me the tough ones, don't you?" _

_He smiled as she left, feeling marginally better. He had had a sinking feeling in his stomach since his interview with the witness, especially from the intrusion of her father. Something about the entire thing was wrong, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He rounded the corner into the AV lab, tapping the door on his way in to get Danny's attention._

_"What've you got, Danny?"_

_"I feel like I have all the answers to a test, but I don't know what the subject is."_

_"That's not what I'm wanting to hear."_

_Danny nodded. "I know, I know. Here's what I got. All the DNA from the scene came back to the vic. The smudges of blood on the file cabinet is confirmed as the victim's blood, but there aren't any fingerprints. It's clear that the killer took something out of that cabinet after murdering the coach, but we can't tell what it was. The computer was broken in the struggle, but the hard drive is still intact. Adam's working on that now. Here's the problem, Mac. The office was clearly tossed, but we can't determine if anything is missing."_

_Mac sighed and felt his stomach clench a little bit tighter. "There was no other DNA except the victim's?"_

_Danny shook his head. "Same thing with the fingerprints, except for two from the vic's neck and wrist and a palm print on the desk. No hits in AFIS, but the position suggests that they're from someone checking for his pulse. I'm still trying to determine who was in the office after the killer left."_

_Mac handed him a notebook with his interview notes displayed. "I think I can help with that. The witness, Jordan Gray, never went in the office but remembered two people that may have gone in. She couldn't give me much, but she said that a Mrs. Miller and a Scott might have checked to see if the victim was alive. Both work out of the stadium." _

_"Scott have a last name?"_

_"She couldn't give me a specific one, but she mentioned that he's an athletic trainer." He glanced at his notes as Danny began typing. "She said his name might have been Barclay, Baker, or Brantley but couldn't be more specific."_

_Danny pulled up a work profile as Mac finished speaking. "How about Bailey? There is a Scott Bailey listed as a Certified Athletic Trainer on the stadium's employee list. No criminal record, this guy looks pretty clean." He brought up another list, then paused. "That's odd."_

_Mac looked up. "What is it?"_

_"No, it's just… He's not listed as being a witness at the scene. Flack interviewed everyone that was hanging around, but this guy isn't on that list."_

_"Maybe he had something to hide? Some reason he didn't want to be connected with finding the coach dead. I'll get Flack to pick him up." _

_Danny pulled up an audio clip to the main screen. "I pulled up the 911 call made by the witness, tried to see if I could get a voice match; no go. She's the only one audible on the call, and all she says is that she thinks someone died." He hit play, letting the recording run. They both listened in silence as the panicked voice attempted to give directions to the office within the stadium. "The call lasts about 20 seconds, not much information. But here's something odd; the phone number she called from came back to a burner phone." He pulled the number up on screen. Mac pulled out his copy of her statement and compared the number to the one she had written on the back._

_"That's the same number she gave me."_

_Danny gave him a look that told Mac something was bugging him. "Mac, don't you find it a little odd that a sixteen-year-old girl on a high-end sports team in a rich neighborhood is using a pay-as-you-go burner phone?"_

_Mac gave him the same look back. "I find a lot of things in this case a little odd. Any luck on the surveillance tapes?"_

_Danny tapped a few keys, bringing up a set of video feeds. "They just came in from stadium security, I've been going through them now. I followed the timeline that the witness gave you, and it checks out. See here?" He pointed at an image of Jordan jogging through the parking lot and pushing through the doors. "There she is at 2:14. I tracked her movements through the stadium, using the timestamp on the video feed, until I found this." He set up a series of video clips that showed Jordan running through the stadium until he stopped on an image of a tall man pushing his way past her through a doorway. _

_Mac nodded, noting the timestamp reading 2:16. "It looks like Jordan was telling the truth. That's our suspect." _

_Danny zoomed in on the clip. They both watched as the man pushed through the door, at the surprise that registered on Jordan's face, and as the man seemed to do a double take as he passed her. "He never faces the camera straight on, but I'm working on cleaning up the image, maybe we'll get enough to run through facial recognition. Once I had an idea on what this guy looked like, I ran the tapes backwards until I found this."_

_He backed the video up until it stopped on an image of the same man entering the building. Mac looked at the time in the bottom corner of the screen. "1:45. That's a narrow window. Do you have anything else on this guy?"_

_Danny shook his head. "He never turns his face to the camera on his way in. Plus, I can't even prove that he went to the coach's office, because he bypasses the direct way to get there and there aren't any cameras inside the office hallways. The next time we see this guy is when he passes the witness." He sped up the tape, stopping on an image of the two._

_Mac leaned forward. "Something's different. Look. He goes into the building wearing a jacket, but he's not wearing it there."_

_"We didn't find it at the crime scene, so either he took it off before he went into the office…"_

_Mac finished his sentence. "Or he ditched it after killing the coach. Danny, you need to find that jacket."_

* * *

_ Thirty minutes later found Danny digging through numerous trash cans situated near the crime scene. It was days like this that made him remind himself that he did actually love his job, despite the uncalled for tasks. Thankfully, he had a limited area to search; he only had to check between the last place the suspect had been seen wearing the jacket and when he had reappeared without it. He worked his way steadily closer to the crime scene, eventually ducking under the tape that was still blocking off a long stretch of hallway. He was digging through the contents of a large bin when he heard a quiet voice behind him. _

_"Hey."_

_He turned to see the witness, Jordan Gray, looking at him curiously. He decided to take a break from sifting garbage and walked to the inside of the tape she was standing beside._

_"Hey yourself. What're you doing here?"_

_She pulled up on the strap of her gym bag. "Practice."_

_He gave her an incredulous look. "Really. Your coach is killed and you still come to practice?"_

_"It's a premier league, Detective. A bomb could go off and we'd still have to practice."_

_His demeanor softened a bit when he realized that she obviously didn't want to be there. He pulled off his gloves and stuck his hand across the tape. "My name's Danny. Danny Messer."_

_She shook it. "Jordan Gr…" He finished her sentence. "Gray, I know. We, uh, met a few days ago."_

_She studied his face. "I'm sorry, I don't remember that. Everything after…" she indicated down the hall. "Everything was a blur. I'm sorry."_

_He smiled at her. "Nah, it's all right. I understand, it couldn't have been easy."_

_Her gaze went distant for a few moments before she shook the memory off. "What are you doing here? I thought you guys did everything the other day."_

_"We have some new evidence that led me back here, I'm trying to recover something that the killer may have left behind."_

_"Is that why everything is still taped off?"_

_He nodded._

_"Oh, I was wondering why it's still like that. We can't get into our locker room, they're making us use the boys'." Her face wrinkled up, making him chuckle. He couldn't help but notice the strong contrast to the girl that a few days before didn't even register his attempts to talk with him. _

_A few girls about the same age as her walked past, calling her name as they were leaving. She turned to follow them, then stopped and glanced back. _

_"It was nice meeting you, Danny. I hope you find what you're looking for." _


	16. Slow progress

Mac stepped off the elevator into autopsy, raising his eyebrow at the three lab techs begrudgingly scrubbing a table. He wondered just how they had irritated Sid to the point of punishment with menial labor. He pushed through the doors, passing the grumbling techs, and headed into Sid's exam room. After a quick glance around, he saw that Jordan had been moved from a table in the open to one of the drawers against the wall that had been pulled out all the way. She was almost completely hidden, save for the coat rack holding up her IV. Upon catching Sid's eye, he glanced back towards the techs scrubbing away.

"Do I want to know?"

Sid's face pulled into an irritated expression. "One of these days, I'm going to have assistants with a little more discretion. And that mind their own business."

Mac smiled. "They were asking about Jordan, weren't they?"

"I don't understand why a live victim in autopsy is such a big deal to them."

"Probably because it's a live victim. In autopsy."

Sid paused as he considered his words. "Perhaps. Anyway, the punishment you see enacted before you now is from the accessing of data without permission. They were attempting to view her evidentiary photos."

Mac turned to watch them, then smiled at Sid. "Well, I'm sure they won't try that again after this." He counted it a victory when he made Sid smile, then turned his attention to the open morgue drawer. He tried not to let it bother him how close Jordan came to being a permanent resident. "How is she doing?"

Sid's expression softened. "She's resting, which is good. The paramedics sent over several IV fluid bags, some of which I suspect were meant for you." He indicated Mac's tightly bound bicep and the strip of gauze around his forearm. "She's been getting fluids back in her system and I've been monitoring her heart rate." He held up his watch. "I've had to do it the old fashioned way, I don't exactly have the right sort of equipment down here."

Mac walked over to her as Sid spoke. He was grateful that her color was returning, adding life to her otherwise bleak position. Her shirt was barely intact, most of it cut off to accommodate the bandages wrapped around her shoulder and chest. "What about her arm?"

Sid pulled his glasses apart and connected them over his nose. He went to the computer monitor and pulled up her scan data. Mac smirked when he realized Sid had password-protected access to them.

"You can see here, the AC joint was almost dislocated. Sheldon adjusted that last. Everything else is miraculously intact, the main issue is tissue damage. Her muscle was penetrated, but thankfully not disconnected. With some luck, I expect she'll make a full recovery. But it will take some time, and it definitely will be painful."

"How long until she wakes up?"

Sid glanced at his watch, then the IV bag. "Not long. I was planning on waking her myself once this drip is finished, if she doesn't wake on her own sooner. But she'll still needs rest, a lot of it."

"Yes, but we need answers, Sid. A lot of them."

Sid inclined his head, then leaned back against the table. "If it were me, I feel as though being shot at multiple times is something I would choose to forget."

Mac sighed and leaned against the table facing Sid. "I know. Believe me, Sid, I wish more than anything that I could take away the memory of today and all that went with it. But until I have answers, she may be the only one who can tell me why this is happening."

Sid hesitated, taking in Mac's drawn demeanor, then ventured to ask his question. "Mac, if I may be so forward as to ask, what does this girl mean to you?" For a while, he didn't think Mac would reply. Finally, he got an answer.

"Unfinished business. She's a promise I failed to keep, and that's a wrong I'm going to make right."

Sid nodded, carefully choosing his response. It was obvious that Mac would shut down his interaction if he didn't tread through this conversation with care. "I'm sure she'll appreciate your efforts, especially after today."

Mac turned to look at her, lying on a morgue drawer as if waiting to be autopsied. "That's the problem, Sid. I made the promise to someone else."

* * *

Jordan felt like she was surfacing through thick water, slowing pushing her way through the murky darkness towards the sunlight. The first thing she saw upon opening her eyes was pure light. The next blink showed a plain ceiling partially hidden by the bright lights. The next showed a plain ceiling, glass doors, and a wall of metal drawers. Her sluggish movements slowly became more coordinated, and she began to take in more of her surroundings, turning her head to see what she could. She found a metal pole next to her holding an IV bag, which took a few moments to connect to the tube in her hand.

She panicked slightly when she realized that she was _in_ one of the metal drawers in the wall, but the IV and growing realization of pain told her she was alive. Her next scan of the room showed Mac and the doctor with the magnetic glasses talking a few tables away. Their voices were muffled and she couldn't make out what they were saying. She reached to pull out the IV with her right hand, and stopped short at the stabbing pain that spiked through her shoulder. Suddenly, she was smacked with a wave of memories; the officer being gunned down, Mac pressing down so hard on her shoulder, the SWAT shield being shot, the panic, the terror, and the sound of her heartbeat as she lay in the body bag and wondered who was trying to kill her.

She must have made some kind of noise, because both Mac and the doctor were by her side when the pain finally subsided. Sid, she remembered his name being, pulled a needle from the tray next to her drawer and injected it into the tube of her IV. She heard Mac ask a question, evidently about where it had come from, but she didn't heard Sid's reply. She zoned out for awhile as the medicine took the edge off her pain, watching the fluid drip from the nearly empty IV bag. She finally focused when Mac spoke directly to her.

"Hey, Jordan. You ok?"

She nodded.

"Sid tells me that this won't make you groggy." He pointed to the IV. "You think you can sit up?"

She didn't, but she nodded again. Lying on a morgue drawer was beginning to creep her out, even though Sid had covered it with a sheet and had blocked the space where it fit into the wall. She was about to try sitting on her own, when both Mac and Sid gently lifted her torso, swinging her legs around to a sitting position. Sid placed her left hand around the coat rack holding her IV, giving her some balance. She shook her head, trying to think of the last thing she remembered.

"What happened?"

Mac and Sid exchanged a glance. Sid made an excuse that she didn't catch and walked off to direct a group of assistants that seemed to be scrubbing a table. Mac lowered his head to make eye contact with her.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"I'm trying to figure that out. I remember coming here, I remember Sid… I don't know, that's about it."

Mac nodded, obviously relieved. "Sid and Hawkes removed the bullet from your shoulder. Sid gave you something to help you sleep, plus the IV to get some fluids in you. From what he's told me, it'll take time but you should make a full recovery." He smiled and gently patted her good arm. "I'm afraid you won't get to play soccer for awhile, though."

His gut clenched when his comment made her flinch. He wasn't sure the cause of it; she had stopped reacting to his touch earlier, so he knew that wasn't it. Something that he had said triggered a bad memory for her, but he had no context to understand it. Filing the information away for later, he gripped her shoulder to get her attention.

"Once that's done," he indicated her IV "we'll head upstairs to the lab. Once the evidence is processed, I'm hoping you can help me find a connection so that we can figure out who did this."

She nodded, taking in his words thoughtfully. She glanced up at him, her eyes large with worry. "Do you really think that this whole thing was…" She stared at his bandaged arm. "Do you think that someone was trying to kill me? That all this, me and you and the other guy getting shot… Do you think they were after me?"

He sighed, weighing his next words carefully. "I'm afraid that's what the evidence is telling us. So far, everything points to you as the target. I'm sorry."

She dropped her head, staring at the ground as she processed his words. He kept his hand on her shoulder, watching her fidget with her fingers in a nervous gesture. After awhile, she quietly spoke.

"I keep seeing his face."

Mac frowned. "Who's face?"

"The policeman. The one who was walking toward me when…" her eyes went distant. "I keep seeing his face as he got shot. I can't get it out of my head. It just keeps playing over and over and over." He squeezed her shoulder gently, trying to calm her down.

"Jordan, listen to me. Hey. I need you to hear me, ok?"

She turned remorseful eyes to his.

"The officer is fine. He's ok. He was wearing a vest, it stopped the bullet. He's a little sore, but he's going to be just fine; you understand?"

She nodded, but he could tell something was still bothering her. He took a chance, guessing what the issue was.

"Jordan, listen to me; none of this is your fault, do you understand? You are not to blame for this."

He wasn't sure if she believed him, but she took a shuddering breath and began to calm down. He knew she still felt guilty, that she would for a while. As Sid came back and took out her IV, he could only hope that they would catch the person who did this so that she could see who was really responsible.


	17. Risky decision

_Detective Mac Taylor hung up his office phone and sighed. Since Danny had come back from the stadium with the discarded, bloody jacket of the killer, he had experienced a slew of evidence that led nowhere. The jacket had trace that matched evidence of black sand collected from the scene, but no one could explain why it would be in both places. He couldn't get a clear answer on what, if anything, the killer touched. And he had no leads, ID, or connection on who the suspect leaving the stadium was. _

_He had hesitantly called the witness, Jordan, to see if she could give him anything on the office evidence. Without a picture, she couldn't tell him if anything had been taken, and she had apologized profusely. He sensed that she was experiencing survivor's guilt, misplaced though it may be. In a moment of desperation, he had called her back to ask about the black sand trace from the office found on the jacket. He was stunned when she knew exactly what he was referring to, evidently the trace came from a souvenir in the Coach's office that had broken in the struggle. _

_He had just hung up from calling her a third time after Danny had brought new evidence that the killer had searched through the Coach's bookcase. Again, without seeing the scene in front of her, she couldn't determine if anything were missing. He could tell that she was willing to help; each time he called her, she sounded more determined, pausing to think hard about each question before she answered. Despite her willingness, he couldn't shake the sinking feeling that her father would strongly object to her helping out. The calls to his office had gotten them less than nowhere; they couldn't even talk to Mr. Gray directly._

_He sighed again when Adam hesitantly pushed through the door. The look on his face told Mac that he had new results with more bad news._

_"Hey, Boss. Um, I found trace inside the casing of the broken computer, which matches trace that Danny recovered from the killer's shoeprint. He definitely smashed it, I think on purpose. But, um, he didn't destroy the hard drive, at least not all the way. I managed to recover most of the files on it, and I'm going through the ones that were accessed right before the murder. But, um, the issue… I, I mean the… problem is, well it's not so much a problem, but it's problematic… well, the hard part, which isn't actually hard, its just…"_

_"Adam!"_

_"Right. Um, there were thirty files accessed around Sid's estimated time of death, and at least forty more in the thirty minutes that the suspect was in the building. I can't really determine what the killer accessed and what the victim did."_

_Mac felt his frustration with the case growing. He took a deep breath to avoid lashing out at Adam. "How do we know that anyone else accessed the computer?"_

_Adam held out his tablet. "I found smudged partial prints on the keyboard that didn't belong to the victim. Here's the thing, the victim's prints were on top of the partials. So he was the last one to use the computer, not the killer. There were a bunch of deleted files that I'm working on restoring, but I can't tell who deleted them."_

_"So you're thinking the killer accessed the computer, found the files, and deleted them?"_

_Adam nodded. "Or maybe he finds the files that he was looking for, but the vic interrupts him and deletes them."_

_"Then why smash the modem?"_

_Adam paused, considering. "Maybe he was worried that someone could retrieve it?"_

_"That's too many maybes, Adam. Find me proof."_

_Adam nodded, taking his tablet back and headed back to the AV lab. Mac pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling his apprehension about this case grow. Too many loose ends usually led to messy arrests and loopholes in trials. That, plus a slick lawyer, usually led to cases thrown out or evidence overruled. He had a bad feeling that this case wouldn't go very well. _

_He glanced up as Stella and Danny came in his office, the looks on their faces adding to his frustration. "Please tell me you have something."_

_Stella shook her head. "Sorry, Mac. The track spike was a complete dead end, and the trace under the victim's fingernails came back to treated leather, which as you know has over a hundred applications."_

_Danny crossed his arms. "And the shoeprint I lifted at the scene comes from a Puma trainer, sells at forty different retailers in Manhattan alone. However, it doesn't match the bloody shoeprint leading away from the body. So all I can say is that someone else was in that room at some time."_

_Mac stood up and paced behind his desk, then picked up a case file and studied it. "What about the file cabinet? Do we know what's missing? Or what the killer was looking for?"_

_Stella and Danny exchanged a look, knowing he wouldn't like the answer. Danny spoke up. "No. We can't determine anything except that the killer touched the file cabinet and the bookshelf after murdering the coach. Other than that, we can't tell if he was looking for something, or if the coach was just sloppy."_

_They both flinched when Mac smacked the file against his desk. "How can we have so much specific evidence and absolutely no leads?"_

_Stella made a placating gesture. "We don't have context, Mac. We weren't in the office before the murder, so we can't definitively say where everything was."_

_Mac paused at her words; he then slammed the file on his desk, picked up his keys, and grabbed his suit coat on his way out of the door. Stella and Danny followed him to the elevator, watching him get on and forcefully push the button for the parking garage. _

_"Mac, where are you going?"_

_He stared at them before the doors closed. "To find context."_

* * *

_Jordan Gray groaned as she stretched out on the couch. Despite the recent death of the head coach, her team was still holding practices and she still had to keep up with her workouts. Finally, some executive higher up in stadium authority had stepped in and given them the weekend off for bereavement purposes. The assistant coach, soon to be head coach, had told them that despite the stadium mandated break, they were in no way allowed to rest. With Coach Jones out of the way, the assistant coach was looking forward to her first season in charge and she was determined that it would be a winning one. _

_Jordan would honestly rather keep practicing; that way she could focus and get her mind off of the mental image of seeing her coach lying behind his desk with a knife in his chest. Being on the field at least brought back happier memories. Staying at home alone only made her think about how she should be doing something to help catch the killer. And that, in turn, brought up mortifying memories of her father dragging her out of the precinct. She mentally winced remembering how ticked off he had been. _

_Her only bright spot the entire day had been the calls from Detective Taylor. She had been surprised that he called; she had written her number down in an attempt to make him drop the issue with her father. She hadn't expected that he would ask for her help; she hadn't even thought that she could help at all. His first call only confirmed that, she had been useless. However, the second call he made gave her the chance to shed some light on evidence that he said was linked to the scene and the killer._

_As happy as she was to be helpful, his next call added more disappointment. He told her that the killer had searched through the bookshelf off in the corner and tried to describe the scene to ask if anything was taken. She could picture the shelf in her mind, but couldn't remember anything he was leaving out. She sighed in defeat when he said goodbye and hung up, feeling helpless to stop the man who had killed Coach. After receiving a phone call reminding her to work out, or else, she went for her run, trying to work through her frustration through exercise. The only thing she achieved was a faster run and she still felt useless when she finished. _

_Walking the last block back to her house, she pulled up short at the unfamiliar truck parked in front. The driver opened the door as she approached, causing her to take a few steps back, but she instantly relaxed when she recognized the man getting out. She stood on the path leading to her front door, smiling as he approached. _

_"Detective Taylor, this is certainly a surprise. What are you doing here?"_

_He stopped a few feet away. She noticed that he looked tired, and he appeared to be about as stressed as she felt. "I'm looking for you. I got your address from Detective Flack."_

_She was about to respond when a gust of wind reminded her that she was not dressed warm enough to stand around outside. "I'm sorry, could we talk inside? I'm getting pretty cold."_

_He nodded, indicating she should lead the way. She gladly led him up the walk, stopping to pull her key from her shoe, and pushed open the heavy door into the warmer house. She turned as soon as they were inside. "So what do you need from me?"_

_For the first time since she had met him, he seemed at a loss for words. He visibly deliberated before choosing his words. _

_"I think you can help me, Jordan. In fact, I know you can; you already have. So far, you've given me two connections to evidence that I hadn't been able to explain. From what you told me over the phone, you know what the office looked like before the murder, where specific things are. I want you to help me put the evidence I have in context."_

_His words were about the last thing she would have expected, him being there even more so. She stared at him for a few moments, trying to take in his meaning. _

_"What… I can't… what?" _

_He smiled at her reaction. "I think you can provide insight that my team doesn't have. You're personally connected to the scene and you have prior knowledge of the victim and the office, two things we need to connect the pieces."_

_"Detective, I… I just don't think I'll be much help. I mean, over the phone I couldn't tell you anything."_

_"That's why I want you to come down to my office. I have photos and evidence that can help trigger memories. At the very least, you'll be able to see if anything is out of place."_

_"Oh." She hadn't considered that. What he was saying made sense, but there was one hitch in his plan. "Detective…"_

_"Mac."_

_She smiled. "Mac. I want to help, really. I mean, I've been sitting at home going over everything in my head, it's driving me nuts. I do want to help, but…" She looked up the stairs. He followed her gaze._

_"You're worried about your father."_

_She turned back to face him. "I mean, I don't know if I'm allowed to talk to you. Like, attorney-client… whatever."_

_He smiled. "If you are willing to talk, and you're not being forced, it's doesn't break any rules. You can waive your right to have an attorney present." He seemed to be considering his next words carefully. "I… realize that can be difficult when it's your father."_

_She tried conveying confidence in her words. "He's just worried about me, that's all. I was really upset when I came home from… when I came home that day, and he was concerned when I told him I had to make a statement. He didn't want me to have to go through it all again." She couldn't read his face to see if he believed her._

_"It's ok, Jordan. I understand if you don't want to go against your father."_

_She shook her head. "No! I mean, that's not what I meant. I wouldn't be going against him. And besides, he is only concerned; he never said I shouldn't help." That was a lie, but she didn't think he needed to know that. "But if you say I wouldn't be breaking any rules, I want to help. If I can."_

_He gave her a small, almost sad, smile. "You can, believe me. You already have."_


	18. Full speed down a dead end street

Jo looked up as the elevator dinged, grabbing her results as she saw Mac exit. She stopped in her tracks when Jordan walked out after him. She was wearing an NYPD shirt that was too big for her, with her right arm suspended in a sling. Jo's heart melted a little when it was clear that Jordan was exhausted. Mac had a hand on her left shoulder and was physically guiding her steps. Her eyes were barely open and her steps were becoming uncoordinated. Mac saw Jo hesitating and waved for her to approach. He directed Jordan to the couch in his office, which she sank down onto and stretched out on her good side. Mac stood in the door and watched as Jo approached.

"What've you got?"

"Lindsay and I processed the sniper's perch. This guy was definitely not a pro. We recovered his shell casings, fingerprints were everywhere, and we collected DNA samples, all of which are running right now. Either this guy was very confident that we wouldn't find his location, or he wants to get caught."

"Or he just didn't know enough to police his brass and wipe down his prints."

"Either way, we have enough evidence to work with that finding this guy shouldn't be too hard. Danny and Adam are on their way back from the precinct crime scene, hopefully with additional evidence to help us nail this guy." She paused in her rant to check that Jordan couldn't hear.

Mac scanned through the evidence log. "Don't worry about her, she's already sleeping."

It was true, Jordan was passed out on his couch.

"How's she doing, Mac?"

He glanced up. "She's holding in there. Sid gave her painkillers but she's exhausted. Until we find the shooter, I think it's best that she stays in the lab."

Jo nodded. "I agree. But I meant, how is she handling everything? Being shot at, and getting injured, with her father potentially involved, that's got to be tough."

Mac looked slightly guilty, and Jo quickly caught on.

"You didn't tell her about the business card, did you?"

He shook his head. "Until we can prove that he's involved, it won't do her any good to tell her. Right now, it's important that she has some things in her life that remain stable."

Jo considered his words before finally nodding. "Well, have we spoken to him? What did he say when he found out that his daughter was the target of a sniper?"

"We haven't been able to track him down. Flack went to his office after the shooting, but I haven't heard from him since then."

"If he is involved, how are we going to keep him from trying again? After all, he has a right to see his daughter."

Mac glanced at the sleeping figure on his couch, then stepped fully out of the doorway to his office, pulling the door shut behind him. "Right now, we're only saying that she's in protective custody and we can't disclose her location. If he makes an issue, Flack will tell him that she requested not to see him for his own safety. She's eighteen, she has that right."

"But will she use it?"

Mac sighed. "Maybe if Flack asks her. Either way, I can't give a potential suspect access to the survivor of a failed murder."

Jo stared through the glass into his office, barely taking in his last words. She was startled when he spoke her name loudly, before realizing he had been trying to get her attention.

"What is it?"

She shook her head, looking back at Jordan. "This is bothering me, Mac. A lot of effort has gone into trying to get this girl. A man waits for almost an hour in a freezing alley to gun her down as she's running. Another man sets up a sniper perch and fires on a police station. Neither of them seemed to be well practiced at killing. This isn't a professional hit, this is personal."

Mac nodded, taking in her meaning. He wished he had more concrete proof on Jordan's father, to his innocence or guilt. Despite his personal feelings towards the man, he had a hard time believing a father would put out a hit to murder his own child. He glanced up at the elevator as Flack stepped off and came to join them.

"Just had a chat with our good friend Mr. Gray. Solid alibies for both shootings, close to twenty witnesses each time. He is, and I quote, 'appalled and horrified' that someone might be after Jordan. He is willing to help in any way he can and completely understands that I can't divulge too much information at this time."

Jo smiled at his obvious willingness to help, but watched both Mac and Flack's faces in confusion as they shared a distrustful glance.

Mac frowned. "Did he question why she was being protected?"

Flack had a skeptical look on his face. "Didn't even ask to see her. Says he will give the NYPD his full cooperation."

"That doesn't sound like him."

"Believe me, Mac, for a while I thought I was in the wrong office. Either he's had a complete change of personality in the past two years, or he's definitely hiding something."

Mac shook his head. "Unfortunately, guilty behavior isn't a crime."

Jo spoke up. "Isn't this a good thing? He sounds concerned about his daughter, wanting her to be safe. Am I missing something?"

She was worried when they gave her matching looks of doubt. Flack fidgeted a little before answering.

"It's slightly out of character from the last time his daughter was involved in a case. His behavior told me that he doesn't want the department to go issue a warrant because he isn't cooperating. However, it might be related to the half-dozen cases he's working on right now; it doesn't mean that he's involved in Jordan's shooting."

Danny jogged down the hallway as Flack finished speaking. "Yeah, but we know who is." He flourished his tablet and handed it to Mac. "Say hello to Martin Decker. No priors, but a member of the Long-Shot gun range."

Flack frowned. "That's a terrible name for a gun range."

Danny chuckled and kept going. "All the members are required to sign in every time they show up, and recently Decker has been racking up his practice time. I spoke to the manager who told me that he typically carries a medium caliber rifle, of which Lindsay is trying to find a registered purchase. And get this" he tapped the screen of the tablet in Mac's hand "his prints are on file. He works as a paralegal in the law office of Conner, Gray, and Wright."

Mac looked up at their faces. "We've got him."

* * *

Flack stood to the side of the doorway, vest in place, and badge prominently displayed. He held his service weapon in his left hand and banged on the door with his right.

"Martin Decker! NYPD!"

No answer came from inside the apartment. He glanced across at Danny who mirrored his position and knocked again.

"Decker! NYPD! We have a warrant!"

Still no answer. He glanced down the hall at Mac, who nodded. Flack took measured breaths to control his movements as he felt the adrenalin rush through his blood. He straightened in front of the door and broke it open in one smooth kick. As soon as it was open, Danny swarmed in to cover him, taking the right section of the room as Flack moved diagonally opposite. Mac cautiously followed the two uniforms into the room. He had deliberated about coming, finally choosing answers over physical comfort.

Upon entering the apartment, he began to compile information about the occupant based on the appearance of the room. He could tell that Decker worked hard at his job and spent little effort on adding comfort to his home. He could also tell that Decker most likely had OCD, given the layout and strict organization of the room.

The few photos in the apartment showed a young man in a graduation gown, a group of corporate workers attending an awards ceremony, and two teenage boys with an older man smiling from behind the stretched out body of an eight-point buck. He identified the suspect in all three photos, paying special attention to the picture of a teenaged Decker hunting with what appeared to be his father and brother. Mac noted the rifle held reverently in the hands of the older man.

"Mac!"

Danny's yell made him swiftly head towards the back room. He entered the large bedroom and stopped in his tracks. The full wall opposite the bed was a massive work up of photos, handwritten notes, and schedules tacked up and connected with strings. His stomach sank when he quickly realized that the focus of the research was Jordan; Jordan in her soccer uniform at the stadium, Jordan leaving school, Jordan jogging in her neighborhood and, more disturbingly, Jordan entering and leaving the precinct from a few days before. Someone had obviously devoted a disturbing amount of time into knowing where Jordan was at all times. Something about the wall bothered him in relation to the rest of the room, but he couldn't quite place the issue.

He turned to focus on what had caught Danny's attention and noticed the spray of blood on the ceiling. He followed it down to the body hidden partially behind the bed, vacant eyes staring out across the floor. The gun in the victims hand and the self-inflicted gun-shot wound under the jaw looked like a very gruesome suicide.

"Looks like we found Martin Decker."

Mac nodded at Danny's statement, turning back to the wall about Jordan. "And what has he left for us to find?"

* * *

Jo had set up her laptop in Mac's office, trying to work on researching the suspect while technically on protection detail. Mac had deliberated posting an officer in the crime lab, but both she and Lindsay had volunteered to keep watch while he and Danny chased down a lead. Lindsay had been with Jordan for an hour, forcing her to eat when she had woken up; then the call came in that the suspect was dead and Lindsay left to process the scene, leaving Jo to watch the once-again sleeping Jordan. Jo was checking for unusual increases in the suspect's bank accounts, when Jordan slowly pushed herself to a sitting position.

"Hey there. Glad to see you awake."

Jordan turned bleary eyes to stare at Jo, blinking slowly in the office light. The sunset streamed in from behind Mac's desk, backlighting Jo in a silhouette. She stood up, carrying her laptop to sit next to Jordan on the couch. Jordan reached for the Gatorade Lindsay had left for her, realizing too late to reach with her left arm instead of her right. Jo watched her, concerned, as she grimaced in pain.

"I had hoped you'd be feeling better once you woke up."

Jordan was trying to unscrew the bottle cap with one hand. "Yeah, so did I."

She struggled for a few more minutes until Jo gently took it from her and opened it. She was disappointed that Jordan didn't think to ask for help, the downside to being a self-sufficient teen. She was also concerned that, although friendly and polite, she was clearly guarded around Jo.

"Jordan, I'm hoping you can help me." Jordan glanced up at her and nodded. "Good. I'm wondering if you recognize this man." She pulled up the employee picture of their suspect, Martin Decker. Jordan squinted at the screen and tilted her head.

"I think so, but I can't think of where…" She stared at the picture for a few minutes, then glanced at Jo. "Do I get a hint?"

Jo smiled. "What if I told you that he works as a paralegal?"

Jordan instantly nodded. "That's it. I met him once, he works for Mr. Conner."

Jo was surprised; she hadn't expected that answer. "Mr. Conner?"

"Yeah, he's a partner in my dad's firm. I met that guy" she pointed to the computer "at the company Christmas party last year. He works in Mr. Conner's office."

Jo was about to respond when she saw Mac stepping off the elevator. She closed her computer and put it on the desk. "Will you excuse me for a minute?"

Jordan nodded and picked up one of the granola bars Lindsay had left on the end table.

Jo slid through the door, stopping Mac in the hallway. "What did you find?"

He sighed, looking frustrated. "Another dead end."

"Literally, so I'm told."

He gave her a look at the pun. "All the evidence at the scene points to a suicide. He was shot with his own gun, which we recovered from his right hand. There is also a massive amount of information about Jordan in his apartment. He was stalking her, Jo." He looked into the office and saw her awake. "How's she doing?"

Jo nodded. "Better. Lindsay got her to eat something before she left. I was just asking her about the suspect, but it doesn't make sense." Mac raised an eyebrow at her. "She recognized him as a paralegal for one of her father's partners. Said she met him at the Christmas party, but specifically told me that he doesn't work for her father."

Mac watched her face, noting something bothering her. "That's not all. What's wrong?"

Jo turned to look at Jordan. "It's just… her behavior. She polite and responsive, but very guarded around me. I got the feeling that her mother wasn't around when she was growing up, she never learned how to connect to an older woman. She doesn't dislike me, but neither does she trust me." She looked back to see Mac smiling at her. "What's that look for?"

He smiled. "That's exactly what Stella said two years ago." He looked at the photo of the suspect from the file in his hand. "Maybe Martin Decker meets Jordan at the company party. For whatever reason, he develops a connection which leads to an obsession."

Jo picked up on his line of reasoning. "In his mind she rejects him, probably without her ever noticing his attention. He is enraged and decides to get revenge. He hires John Dorrin, and when that doesn't work, he takes the matter into his own hands." She poked Mac's shoulder as a thought came to her. "Perhaps he realizes what he's done, can't live with the guilt of hurting her, and takes his own life."

Mac gave her a grim look. "Or he can't handle the failure of leaving her alive."


	19. Turning point

_Detective Stella Bonasera was frustrated. She had spent the past two hours scouring the security footage to find some clue of the suspect with no success. All they had was the brief view that Danny had used to track down the jacket. She had tweaked and enhanced the footage close to oblivion without learning anything new or getting a positive ID on the suspect. She was currently enhancing the best shot of his face in an attempt to run his features through the facial recognition software. _

_She looked across the hallway to see Danny running his hand through his hair in frustration. He was trying to get all the trace evidence from the jacket recovered at the stadium and evidently was having a tough time. Stella set up the last parameter and started the facial recognition search of their suspect. She set up the program to send the results to her tablet and pushed back from the desk. The cramped feeling in her back told her she had been sitting in one place for too long. She stretched as she headed across the hall to check on Danny._

_"So how's it going?"_

_Danny groaned loudly in response._

_"That good, huh?" _

_"Any trace that might have been on this stupid thing has been obliterated by the blood. The black sand that came from the coach's office came from under the collar so it was protected. Everything else is covered in blood or comes back to trace from the trash can." _

_Stella ran her hand through her hair, staring down at the olive green jacket spread out on the table in front of them, nearly covered in blood._

_"Danny, that's a lot of blood. How did no one notice someone walking out of the office completely covered in blood?"_

_Danny pointed to the directional smudges across the chest of the jacket. "It looks like minimal spatter actually happened during the murder. The killer took the jacket off and wiped his hands and probably his face. I'm guessing he then turned it inside out and dumped it in the trashcan down the hall. The problem is, I can't get any kind of spatter analysis because of the smear pattern." _

_Stella shook her head. "This case is full of dead ends. "_

_Danny nodded and glanced up as the elevator dinged on their floor. He straightened and focused his attention when he saw Mac step off, becoming instantly interested when he saw who was with him._

_"Stel."_

_She glanced up and followed his line of sight. They exchanged surprised glances, then clamored for the door. Danny turned back halfway there, securing his evidence, while Stella ducked into the AV lab to check on her search and make sure that no one disturbed her space. They both met in the middle of the hall and moved off toward Mac's office. They could see him sitting at his desk, talking to the witness sitting in the chair opposite of him. Her hair curled softly to her shoulders, stopping just above the logo of her soccer team embroidered across the back of her jacket. They shared another glance, both trying to confirm that this was brand new information to both of them. _

_"I thought…" Danny didn't finish his sentence. They both turned toward the office to see Mac watching them. He gave them his 'busted' look, before saying something to Jordan and stepping out in the hall to join them. _

_Stella gave him her best innocent smile. "I'm guessing that's your context." _

_Mac gave her a stern look that didn't fool her at all. "Jordan is going to help determine what, if anything, is missing from the crime scene. I'm going to collect the crime scene photos. Danny, I want you to get the trace results from everything we've collected so far; and get Adam to give me a list of the files accessed on the victim's computer. Stella, see if you can get her to remember anything else about the suspect."_

_Stella nodded, watching Mac and Danny move off in opposite directions. She turned and pushed through the door to Mac's office. Jordan watched her come in, obviously having watched the whole exchange. _

_"Hello. Jordan, right?" She nodded. "My name is Stella. I have a few questions for you." She saw Jordan focus on her badge then back on her face. "I'm hoping you can describe the man you saw leaving the stadium the other day."_

_Jordan nodded, launching into details of the person she saw. Stella took notes, jotting down key characteristics to narrow her search parameters. She spent a few minutes after Jordan finished talking to bring up frames from the security footage, trying to pinpoint exact height of the suspect. She was pulled from her thoughts by a quiet question._

_"So you haven't found whoever did this?"_

_She finished one last search queue as she answered. "Well, we're working to get an ID. That's why your input will be helpful."_

_"It's just…" Stella finally looked up, startled to realize that Jordan was close to tears. "This guy killed my coach. And he's out there, walking around, and no one knows it. And I'm just… I'm worried that he's going to get away with it." _

_"No, Jordan." Stella reached out to grab her hand. "We're going to catch this guy. He's not going to get away with anything." _

_Jordan nodded. She appeared to believe what she said, but Stella could tell she wasn't completely convinced. She looked down at her hand on top of Jordan's and gently let go. She hadn't pulled away, but she obviously wasn't comfortable with Stella holding on to her. At that moment, her tablet began to beep, indicating her results were in. She excused herself and left the office, closing the door behind her. She had made it halfway to the AV lab when she ran into Mac._

_"Hey, got a hit from the facial recognition software."_

_Mac stopped to focus on her. "That's great. Do we have a name?"_

_"Oh yeah." Stella turned the tablet towards him. "Sixty names. There were sixty-two possible matches for our suspect. I'm going to modify the search parameters based on what Jordan gave me, hopefully that'll narrow things down." She frowned and glanced back toward his office as a thought struck her. He followed her gaze, noting her expression. _

_"Something wrong?"_

_She shook her head. "No, its just… something is bugging me."_

_Mac frowned. "What is it?"_

_"Well… Jordan's behavior. I just now realized something that I should've picked up on earlier."_

_Mac gave her a worried glance. "Is she regretting volunteering her help?"_

_Stella shook her head. "No, it's not that. She was very helpful, very polite. The thing is, she didn't really seem to respond to me, not how witnesses normally do. I mean, I think she liked me, but she didn't trust me."_

_"What're you thinking?"_

_She turned a sad look to him. "Mac, I don't think she ever had a mother. It was like she… she didn't know how to connect with me. I think the only female interaction she's had is with girls her own age."_

_Mac was about to respond when her tablet beeped again. She focused on her results, patting his shoulder as she started to walk away. He turned when she held his arm for a moment._

_"See if you can get her to open up to you. I think she needs to connect with someone."_

_With that, Stella was off._

* * *

_Jordan was distracted by the whirlwind of activity flowing around her. She was also massively intimidated by the clearly professional work that everyone seemed to be involved with. She hadn't seen this many people in lab coats even horror movies. It was doing nothing to help her feelings of inadequacy as she watched the flow of people who were obviously skilled at their jobs. She stood up, moving to look out the glass walls of Detective Taylor's office. _

_The ride to the crime lab had been interesting. She had sat in awkward silence, not knowing how to respond while he made small talk. Finally, he had gotten her started talking about soccer, showing enough knowledge about the sport to engage her interest. She talked about her team, and her place and position in it, since she had joined when she was fifteen. He had impressed her by understanding that was an accomplishment, getting on a U17 team two years early. _

_She had opened up after that, chatting about playing on rec teams when she was younger and how her father had encouraged her to compete at a higher level. She had started to tell him about how her father was the one who had pushed her to practice more and work out hard enough to try out for the team, but she cut off halfway through. Given Mac's less than pleasant meeting a few days ago, she wasn't sure that she wanted him to know that. Instead, she fumbled over her sentence and tried to continue the conversation as though she hadn't brought it up. He had given her an unreadable look, but hadn't pressed the issue, much to her relief. _

_He had kept her chatting with him all the way to the crime lab, both of them getting more comfortable as the drive continued. Once they made it to the lab, Jordan became withdrawn. The massive glass building was intimidating her, even now as she waited in his more comfortable office. She had realized after awhile that he had put effort into making his office pleasant because he was most likely there quite a bit. She had noticed the same about Coach Jones' office and he had told her that the space he spent the most time in was usually the most comfortable. _

_But while her coach's office had been cluttered and full, Detective Taylor's was organized and precise. Everything obviously had a place and it was meticulously clean. She began to peruse the certificates and plaques of merit that had been awarded to him. From there she moved on to looking at his photos, where she learned he had been a marine. She was staring at his military medals, wondering what they all meant when he came back through the door. She gave him a guilty look when it was obvious that he had been watching her for a while. _

_"I was just, uh…" she weakly trailed off._

_He gave her a raised-eyebrow look, hiding his smile. "Yes?"_

_She gave up, knowing she'd been caught snooping. She pointed at the case. "What do they mean?"_

_He smiled as he walked over to where she was standing, gently putting a hand on her shoulder as he indicated the medals. "They're for specific purposes. You're awarded a medal like this, but for most uniforms you wear them as a ribbon." He pointed to his military ribbon rack in the adjacent case. "Most of these on the bottom are specific to times or events in which you served, sometimes countries. These up here are more specific to the soldier that earned them. Bronze star, silver star, purple heart, and Marine Corp commendation are usually earned in combat situations." _

_She looked up at him. "Wow. That's like… wow. I'm super impressed. You've won a lot of them."_

_He looked slightly uncomfortable having the attention shift to himself. She looked around his organized office. _

_"I didn't know you were a Marine. It makes a lot of sense now."_

_He gave her an amused look. "What makes sense?"_

_She didn't seem fazed, glancing at his military photos and awards. "Your insanely clean office, your awards, your posture," she glanced at him "even your attitude a little."_

_Now he mock glared at her. "What exactly about my attitude?"_

_She grinned in his face. "You're all, take charge and everything. Plus you seem like you give orders more than you take them and…"_

_He cut her off. "And I'm not intimidated by aggressive people?"_

_She had a fairly good idea what he meant with his last comment, but it ventured into areas she'd rather not discuss. _

_"I guess." She took one last look at his photos and moved to sit on the couch against the wall, sliding out from under his hand gingerly. He surprised her by sitting down beside her, while leaving plenty of space._

_"Jordan, I have some evidence I'd like to show you that I think you can help me put into place."_

_She looked around at the bustling workflow around her. _

_"I don't know, Detective. I mean, what can I tell you that these people can't figure out? I'm not sure I can really do anything."_

_He leaned in closer until she met his gaze. He seemed to look right through her as he spoke. _

_"The most difficult aspect of my job isn't figuring out the pieces, it's finding how they fit together. Right now, I know the pieces but you're the one who can tell me how they fit. I wouldn't have brought you here if I didn't believe that. I know you don't think you can contribute, but if you don't trust yourself, I need you to trust me."_


	20. Keep your friends close,,,

Jo stared at the dry-erase board in the conference room filled with evidence. Mac had put up all the pictures, perfectly square and equal distance from each other. She had tacked up sticky notes next to every one that were off set, random, and sideways, reflecting her thought process. Most of her notes were written on the board, over half of them accompanied by a frowny-face post-it. After going over the case for an hour, she had begun to stick the faces on evidence that was a dead end.

So far, to her immense frustration, every single piece of evidence had only furthered the initial conclusion that Martin Decker's death was a suicide. The gun that was recovered was registered in his name, and was proven to be the weapon that killed him. She stuck another frowny-face to the board. The only fingerprints inside his entire apartment were his own. Another face went up. The handwritten notes stuck to the wall filled with pictures of Jordan were a match to the handwriting on the business card found in the pocket of John Dorin. That got two faces up on the wall.

Despite overwhelming evidence that pointed to suicide, Jo was not convinced. She had gone over everything with Mac to determine threat assessment for Jordan. They had both concluded that Decker committed suicide; all the evidence had pointed to him being the shooter and the man who commissioned John Dorin. By all accounts, his death ended the threat against Jordan's life.

Jo had been relieved. Mac had taken Jordan to the hospital as soon as it was verified that she was safe. He had called an hour later, saying that they were keeping her for observation but not fully admitting her. Jo had taken over the last loose end of the threat they had determined for Jordan, which was the motivation of Decker's obsession. Although they believed that the threat was gone, they hadn't found a trigger that would have led to his attempt to kill her. Jo had decided to contact Jordan's father to see if he could fill in some of the blanks about Decker's work life.

Sitting in the interview room at the precinct, Jo thought of how long it had been since she'd seen an Alabama rattlesnake. She'd remembered how it had felt the first time she'd come across one, how she had frozen in her steps at the ominous sound. She was reminded of that when she sat across from Dorian Gray. He had looked her up and down with his startling blue eyes and smiled a movie star grin that would have charmed a grizzly bear. She smiled back, but inside she had frozen just like that first time meeting a snake; she could hear the chilling rattle in the back of her mind.

The apprehensive feeling in her stomach remained throughout the interview. He had been friendly, engaging, and obliging but it was evident to her that he was holding back, much like Jordan had. However, unlike Jordan whom she had felt sympathy for, she felt as though he was putting up a front. He answered all her questions clearly, giving the right emphasis and inflections to sound sincere. By all accounts he seemed sincere and upfront, but she couldn't convince herself to believe him.

He had confirmed what they suspected, that Decker had met Jordan and developed an attraction. He claimed that he wasn't aware of how extensive it was, just that he had mentioned Jordan a few times after meeting her. He couldn't provide more information along those lines, although he graciously answered all her questions. No, he had never seen Jordan and Decker alone. No, he didn't think Jordan ever noticed Decker paying her attention. Yes, he was aware that Decker had an attraction but he thought it was harmless. No, he didn't hear Decker make any suspicious or obsessive comments about Jordan, but he didn't spend much time with him. No, he never talked to Decker about Jordan's daily life. He was sorry, but he didn't know Decker well, he worked for Mr. Conner who is a partner in the firm.

Every polite, gracious answer made Jo less certain about Mr. Gray's character. The nicer he became, the more she distrusted him. She kept her friendly, Southern personality going because he seemed to respond more favorably towards it rather than her professional side. But when she asked him one last question, his response made her blood run cold.

"One last thing Mr. Gray; do you know if Jordan ever overlooked Mr. Decker? Did she ever unwittingly fail to pay attention to him? Something that would have led him to conclude that she rejected him, however unconsciously."

He gave her his charming smile. "Not that I am aware of, Detective. However," here his smile turned into a slight smirk "Jordan can be rather dismissive." His eyes took on a hard glint as his mouth curved into a scoff.

Jo faltered for a moment, chilled by his response. She grinned a moment later, thanked him for coming in, and showed him out, chatting all the way. Once he left, she immediately returned to the lab, now suspecting that perhaps Decker had been murdered. She had gone to the white board in the conference room where Mac had place the photos during their threat assessment and began jotting down notes. She had hoped to run her theory by Danny or Hawkes but everyone was conspicuously absent from the lab. She didn't think much of it, focusing instead on her evidence. But as hard as she searched, the frowny-faces began to pile up.

* * *

Mac returned to the lab, thinking the whole time of why he hated hospitals. The horridly clean scent always gave him a headache, plus he had had too many negative experiences in hospitals. This past one had been no different. He had taken Jordan to the hospital as soon as he and Jo had determined that the threat against her was removed. She had reluctantly gone in, seeming about as fond of hospitals as he was. The walk through the emergency room had caused her to pull back; he had eventually found himself guiding her with his hand on her shoulder. He had considered leaving her alone when she was finally let in to see a doctor, but stayed at Jordan's quiet, offhanded comment when he asked if she'd rather be alone.

The ride to the hospital had been one of the most relaxed, comfortable conversations that they had had in two years. Once he had explained to her that the threat on her life was removed, he saw the tension melt out of her in one big rush. As both he and Jo suspected, Jordan's knowledge of Martin Decker was minimal. She recognized him, knew that he worked out of the same office as her father, but had never interacted with him. They had ridden in comfortable silence, both feeling the release of stress.

The doctor had sent Jordan to get X-rays taken and Mac had used the opportunity to call Jo. She was clearing up the suicide case and was relieved that the danger against Jordan was through. She told him that all she had left was to interview the common person between Jordan and Decker, Dorian Gray. Mac mentally winced, curious as to how that would turn out. He gave her an update from the hospital, how they had decided not to fully admit Jordan but were keeping her overnight for a blood transfusion. She had lost more than anyone had known, accounting for her exhaustion. The doctor had confided to Mac that he didn't know how she had been able to be so alert for such an extended period of time.

After hanging up with Jo, Mac found himself staring at the bulletin board in the nurses' station. He noted the handwriting of multiple people, how some obviously were clearer than others. He frowned as a thought from Decker's suicide returned to bug him; some aspect of the case didn't quite fit. On a whim, he made a call, and then a few more. By the time Jordan had returned, X-rays in tow, he had a halfway functional theory. He sat with her as the transfusion was in progress, reading a paper he had charmed off a grandmother in the waiting room and chatting to keep her mind off of it all. She was back to being guarded, but she smiled whenever he tried to make her laugh, which he considered a win. He had been there for an hour when the nurse quietly informed him that Jordan's father had arrived and he wanted to see her.

Mac gave one last look at Jordan, now dozing softly, and stood up, feeling all too keenly the cramps in his muscles and the aching pull in his arm. He settled immediately back into his professional mode as he walked down the hall to meet Dorian Gray.

"Mr. Gray?"

Cold blue eyes turned to meet him. "Detective Taylor. I should have known. I would like to see my daughter now."

Following a hesitation he couldn't explain, Mac tried to stall. "She's exhausted. It might be best to wait a few hours until she's up to it."

A spark glinted through Gray's eyes at Mac's challenge. "My daughter is always up to seeing her own father. I just came from a meeting with Detective Danville," a softer look came over his face "and she graciously informed me that there is no longer a threat against my daughter's life. Therefore, there is no need for continued police presence. But I thank you for your… efforts. I understand you were injured."

Mac resisted the urge to hold his injured arm, staying perfectly stoic. "I was just doing my job."

Gray waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Yes, yes. Protect and serve and all that. Still," he gave Mac a sideways glance, as though he were letting him in on a secret "it's too bad that Mr. Decker was such a bad shot. You might have been spared the injury."

Before Mac could decide to respond with rational logic or punch him in the jaw, the nurse returned to escort Gray back to Jordan's room. Gray smiled as he walked past Mac.

"Goodbye Detective Taylor. Perhaps the next time we meet will be under better circumstances."

Mac had returned to the lab soon after, thinking hard about everything the past few days had revealed. He ran through evidence lists in his mind, mentally reconstruction crime scenes, and considered the rapidly growing list of casualties. By the time he made it back, he had a headache from both the hospital and his intense concentration. He found Jo studying the white board they had constructed for threat assessment. He smiled as he noted her own scribbled notes and frowny-face post-its. He was about to push through the door when a realization struck him on why the Decker crime scene bothered him so much. He stared at the board, searching for clarity and not liking the results it was giving him. Jo finally noticed him, waving him inside.

"Mac, there's something about this case that I can't put my finger on."

"Really?" He was distracted by his thoughts, following them along the lines of his existing theory.

"The evidence all points to suicide, I know. And we've found nothing that can prove otherwise. But I can't shake the idea that this guy was murdered."

He kept staring at the board.

"I mean, I can't find anything that would have set this guy off. As far as we know, he only had an obsession about Jordan, nothing to make him go off the rails the way he did. Plus, his death seemed to be awfully convenient."

He gave her a raised-eyebrow look.

"You know what I mean, Mac. He was presented to us with all the evidence to condemn him right there in his apartment. All he needed was a pretty red bow on his head."

Mac gave her a solemn look. "You know what I'm going to say, Jo."

She waved her hands. "I know, I know. 'Follow the evidence.' But Mac, the evidence is only telling us half of the story." She was frustrated now, putting her hands on her hips as she turned to glare at him. "Since when do you not pick up on how suspicious this is? The whole thing is too easy and we don't have clear enough evidence to rule anything else out. I thought you of all people would support me on this, I'm surprised at you, Mac!"

He gave her a surprised glance, but didn't speak as Sid pushed through the door.

"Oh, there you are, Mac. I ran with your theory that Martin Decker didn't commit suicide, and I found something interesting." He came around the table, not noticing Jo's shocked face and Mac's amused one. "I went back over the body and I found subdural bruising, probably caused at time of death. They wouldn't have developed until hours later when lavidity began to set in." He showed Mac pictures of Decker's right wrist. "This doesn't rule out suicide, but it suggests that someone violently grabbed his wrist, just prior to death. This could have been someone trying to stop him, or more likely, someone grabbed his arm and forced him to pull the trigger."

Mac took the results, glancing over them as Jo worked her mouth, trying to speak. Before she was successful, Lindsay came through the door looking triumphant.

"Mac! You were right. I went through Decker's apartment and found a journal filled with obsessive comments and threats of violence about Jordan. However, I dated the ink. All the writings came from the same pen but none of it was completely dry. According to the manufacturer specs, the pen that wrote that journal did so less than a week ago. The journal's a fake."

Danny came in right on her heels. "Here's more, I just talked with James Conner, Decker's boss. He told me that Decker casually mentioned Jordan once, and he only seemed to have a little crush. Then out of nowhere, Decker quits a week ago stating personal reasons because his girlfriend betrayed him. Conner sent me a copy of his employee records, and get this; the handwriting is _not _a match to the writing we found in his apartment, in the journal, or on the card."

Jo finally found her voice. "So he was set up!" Mac gave her an amused glance, to which she gave a sheepish one back.

Mac pulled up a photo of the wall in Decker's apartment. "This kept bothering me, something about it was off. Decker was Obsessive-Compulsive, everything in his apartment had a specific place. So when I tried to consider that in relation to his research, it didn't fit. The photos in the very center are straight and spaced, obviously put up by him. But everything else was put up without regard to organization, obviously not done by him. Someone else added to that wall."

He looked up as Flack came through the door in a hurry. "Here you go, Mac. It took a bit of digging, but I managed to find it. I don't know why you'd need this now, I mean, we caught the guy right?" He looked around at their apprehensive faces. "What'd I miss?"

Mac took the sheet of paper from him and held it against the screen with the business card and the wall in Decker's apartment. He zoomed in on the handwriting in both samples, then held up the paper to show the rest of them. Jo leaned in, squinting.

"It's a match! That's the same handwriting on all of them. Mac, what is that?"

He waved the paper slightly. "It's the attorney form we made Dorian Gray fill out two years ago. Jordan's father is trying to kill her."


	21. ,,,And your family far, far away

_Detective Mac Taylor laughed at the girl sitting across from him, who was laughing so hard she was struggling to keep from falling off her chair. They had spent most of the day in his office, with only a small break when Danny brought them sandwiches from the deli. They had spent an hour going through photos in awkward, stilted conversation before Jordan had finally cracked a joke out of exasperation. Mac had chuckled in surprise, further surprising Jordan. From that point on, they had both settled into a more lighthearted workflow. Jordan began to put more effort into making Mac smile; he, in turn, would chuckle at her efforts and finally began to make her laugh in return. _

_They had gone over most of the evidence in the case, poring over photos for hours. Much to Jordan's surprise, she was able to fill in most of the blanks that the evidence wasn't able to satisfy. She was able to tell Mac what in the office had disturbed. Much like Danny had thought, the coach had a rather unorganized office to begin with so it was difficult to discern what specifically had been moved by the killer and what was the disorganized environment of the coach's. She had been in the office multiple times and was able to determine what areas were disturbed._

_Based on what she had told him, his suspicions were confirmed; the coach's office had been ransacked. It was obvious that the killer was looking for something specific, especially connected to the coach's desk and file cabinets. Mac was supposed to be showing her photos of the files so she could possibly notice if any were missing, but he was currently invested in making her laugh. They had been mainly chatting, rather than working, for quite some time. A lab tech coming in to get Mac's signature caused Jordan to pull up short. Mac glanced up at her as the tech left._

_"I guess we should continue."_

_She nodded. He pulled up a new series of photos._

_"This is the file cabinet in Coach Jones' office." He enlarged a photo. "This smudge of blood on the handle tells us that the killer opened the cabinet after Coach was murdered, we call it transfer. I'm hoping you can tell me what is missing, if anything is."_

_She hesitantly shook her head. "I don't know if I can. I mean, I never really saw what was inside, only once or twice."_

_Mac nodded. "That's ok. Just scan through the pictures and tell me if anything stands out." _

_He had set up the larger monitor behind his desk to display the evidence for her. She stared at the screen as he scanned through them, one by one. Suddenly she pointed._

_"There! Go back!"_

_He scanned back two pictures. She stood up and came around his desk to get closer to the screen. She pointed at a close up photo of the remaining files._

_"There's not enough."_

_He stood up next to her, focusing on where she was pointing._

_"Not enough what?"_

_"Files. Player files, that's what he keeps…" she caught herself. "Kept in this drawer. I know because I saw mine once and he put it in here." She panned her finger across the screen. "Are there more of this drawer?"_

_Mac cycled through the catalogue, isolating three photos of the drawer and placing them side by side on the screen. She moved from one to the next, following with her finger._

_"Some are missing."_

_He turned to her. "Player files? Are you sure?"_

_She nodded. "Definitely."_

_"Would he have kept them in another drawer? Maybe he moved them recently?"_

_"No, I don't think so. See, there's Morgan's and Cassie's but Megan's and Emma's are gone."_

_He gave her a dubious look, indicating that her logic didn't make sense. She gave him an embarrassed smile._

_"Sorry. They'd be alphabetical. Morgan Dawes and Cassie Franks' are there, but Megan Gardner and Emma Hable's are missing." She paused as a thought came to her. "Huh. That's weird."_

_"What is it?"_

_"Mine's gone too. I just realized, I'd be in between Megan and Emma."_

_She stared in confusion at the screen while Mac felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He wasn't sure what was bothering him, but he trusted his instincts enough to know that something about this case wasn't right. He filed it away until he had evidence to prove it._

_"Is there anything else missing?"_

_She scanned over the files again. "Yeah, one more. Katie James' file should be there. But it picks up right after her, everyone else's is there. Except…" she moved her hand between the pictures, obviously searching for something._

_"What's wrong?"_

_She pointed to a file from the center photo. "Coach Kate. Her file is here. I didn't know she even had a file."_

_"Coach Kate?"_

_"The assistant coach." She rolled her eyes. "I guess head coach now. Oh joy. Anyway, if she has a file, I'd think Coach would too. His isn't here though."_

_Mac came up close behind her, scanning through the pictures as well. "What would be in these files?"_

_"Basic stuff. Name, address," Mac suddenly guessed why the coach's was missing. Jordan kept talking "age, health information, trainer reports, stuff like that. I saw mine once, it had my chart from the physical and all the updates from Scott when I pulled my tendon, plus the form when he cleared me for playing again. Nothing important, just coaching stuff." _

_Mac worked his mouth in concentration, his mind spinning in all directions as a new flow of theories came to his attention. He was so intent that he missed Jordan absent-mindedly stepping back from the screen. His attention was suddenly pulled to her when her shoe caught on the leg of his desk and she pitched backwards. He shot out his hand to grab her as she began to fall, catching her shoulder and keeping her upright. She turned a grateful smile towards him that froze on her face when she realized what he was staring at._

_She had taken off her team jacket earlier, slinging it around the back of her chair, which left her in a short-sleeved, faded shirt. Mac's grip on her shoulder had pulled the material high up her arm, revealing the yellowing bruises on her bicep. He had helped her gain her balance and was on the verge of teasing her when he saw them, halting his response. He held her shoulder firmly, using his thumb to pull the shirt higher as he followed the extent of the bruising up her arm. She finally moved into action, pulling her arm away from him in several unsuccessful jerks before he released her. She moved away from him, sitting down on the couch against the wall rather than her previous chair. He moved around his desk, crouching down in front of her but keeping distance between them._

_"Jordan, where did you get those?"_

_She kept her gaze somewhere around his collar, not meeting his eyes._

_"Get what?"_

_"Jordan."_

_That one word told her that he wasn't going to stop, or take no for an answer. She looked up and smiled, but he could tell she was trying to play it off. _

_"C'mon, Mac. I play a high contact sport. I get tons of bruises every week."_

_He moved closer. "Those aren't from soccer."_

_She tried again to brush it off. "Really."_

_He carefully reached out, pushing her sleeve high up her arm with one hand. With the other, he gently circled her arm, giving her a pointed look when the bruise pattern matched a handprint perfectly. She deflated, her carefree attitude leaving as quickly as it came._

_"It's no big deal, ok? Just drop it."_

_He let her go, sitting down next to her on the couch. "Jordan, it is a big deal. Someone grabbed you hard enough to leave a mark."_

_She picked at her nails, resting her elbows on her legs and keeping her head down. "That could've been anybody. Maybe it was an accident."_

_"Was it?"_

_She didn't reply. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees in a mirror of her posture. _

_"Jordan, part of my job is not only finding evidence, but putting it in context. For instance, the evidence is telling me that someone grabbed you, tightly. From the angle I would say that whoever it was is much taller than you and has a hand about the size of mine." _

_He held out his hand to show her. She stared at it but said nothing. He continued. "The color says that this bruise is around two days old. About the time you were at the precinct. When your father escorted you out, he grabbed your arm in that spot."_

_Her face creased when he mentioned her father. His sinking feeling was back in full force, now that he had evidence to back his instinct. He ducked his head to the same level as hers._

_"Jordan. Did your father give you those bruises?"_

_She focused on the ground, staying silent. He thought she wasn't going to respond, but he heard her quietly speak._

_"He didn't mean it."_

_He frowned. One glance at his face sent her into a rapid-fire slurry of defensive remarks._

_"He was upset because I was at the precinct and he was worried that I wasn't handling everything and my coach had just died and he just wanted me to be safe and…"_

_Mac held up a hand, cutting her off mid-rant. He gently encircled her arm again, matching his hand up to the bruises. _

_"This doesn't show safety. This shows anger. This shows control."_

_She was eyeing his hand around her arm, but she didn't pull away. He slid his hand down to just above her elbow, squeezing gently in a comforting gesture. When she made eye contact with him, he softened his gaze._

_"I've been a cop for a long time, Jordan. I see a lot of people who get hurt by those they love. I hear a lot of excuses. But I want you to listen to me." He paused until he was sure he had her full attention. "None of those excuses justify the pain. None. There is no excuse for hurting someone, especially your own child." _

_He gently let go. She dropped her head again, obviously conflicted. He was about to speak again when Adam knocked on his door. He mentally growled in frustration, but waved him in, trying to keep the annoyance off his face. Adam hesitantly pushed the door open a crack._

_"Uh, Boss? You, uh, said to bring the, uh, the files. I, uh, well… that is, I mean, I… I thought that, uh, that you… that…"_

_Mac couldn't help but be amused. "Adam."_

_Adam cut himself off. Mac waved his hand for the results, scanning through the list as Adam nervously backtracked out of the room. _

_"Tell Danny to get in here, I have a lead he needs to track down."_

_Adam nodded and split, obviously grateful to be out of the tension in Mac's office. Jordan had composed her features into a guarded mask, causing Mac to move the issue to the back burner for the moment, knowing she wouldn't be responsive. He stood to move back to his desk._

_"We aren't finished with this."_

_He waited until she nodded before he walked around and sat down, typing on his computer to upload Adam's results. He had partially recovered some of the deleted files, most of which were severely damaged when the hard drive broke. He pointed to the tablet he had left beside Jordan._

_"Look through that list. See if you can find any files you recognize, or anything that would tell me who accessed what."_

_She scrubbed at her face, nodding as she picked up the tablet. She started slowly panning through the list as Danny came through the door. _

_"Mac. I heard you were looking for me?"_

_Mac nodded, focused on his computer. Danny turned back to glance at Jordan who had watched him come in. He gave her his disarming smile._

_"How you doin'?"_

_Mac glanced up as she grinned, smiling at her positive response to Danny's easy-going personality. When Danny turned back, Mac was all business._

_"Jordan was able to determine that some of the player's files were taken from this cabinet." _

_He showed Danny the photo's she had scanned through. Danny squinted at them. _

_"Are we thinking this was our killer?"_

_Mac shook his head. "Doesn't fit. Based on what she told me would be inside them, there is no connection to the personal ransacking the killer went through to these files of unrelated people."_

_Jordan's head snapped up, obviously having not considered his angle. She immediately returned to her tablet once she realized he had noticed. He continued explaining to the now amused Danny._

_"I'm thinking we need to bring in Scott Bailey."_

_Danny nodded. "The elusive trainer. Flack is working to get him down to the precinct as we speak. We thinking he could be our guy?"_

_"I'm thinking he has something to share with us."_

_Danny was about to ask another question when Jordan made a hollow noise as all the breath left her body. Both he and Mac turned instantly to focus on her. She sat frozen in place, staring in horror at the tablet in her hands. Danny made a quick grab to catch it as it tumbled from her lifeless fingers. He scanned through the list, trying to determine what had caused her panic as Mac rounded the desk to crouch in front of her._

_"Jordan! What is it? What did you find?"_

_She pointed to the tablet, taking it between shaking hands as Danny gave it back. She highlighted a file name on the list, turning it to show Mac. He took the tablet from her. The file she had indicated was labeled "JG/DG"_

_"Do you know what that is?"_

_She nodded, her gaze unfocused and off to the side. She couldn't seem to form words. Mac gently caught one of her hands to get her attention focused on him. _

_"Jordan, I need you to talk to me. What was in that file?"_

_She took a shuddering breath and blew it out in a rush. "That was the file, he told me about it. I thought he was bluffing, I didn't think he meant it."_

_"What was in the file, Jordan?"_

_She finally made eye contact with him. "He knew. Coach knew about…" she trailed off, indicating the bruises on her arm with a vague gesture. "He told me he was making a file, collecting 'evidence'. He told me that he'd take care of it. I told him not too, I thought he was bluffing. He showed me a file on his computer, that was it."_

_Mac frowned down at the tablet in shock. "He wouldn't have deleted it. He must have surprised the killer in his office, deleting the files. He would have tried getting it back…" he stopped himself from finishing his thought, but Jordan had already picked up on his line of reasoning._

_"Oh my God! Is that why he was killed?" _


	22. Overturned stones leave empty holes

Jo slammed down the handset to her phone and viciously scratched off another number on her list. Her quick pen stroke turned into a fierce scribble when she realized she had called and crossed off all the numbers on her list. Lindsay glanced up when she groaned in frustration.

"No luck?"

Jo tried not to throw her stapler through her computer screen. "I've called everyone I can find that has ever met Jordan, no one has seen or heard from her! She wasn't at school, she's not at home, she's not at work, it is like she disappeared from the face of the earth!"

Lindsay frowned, nodding in sympathetic frustration. "What about her soccer team?"

"Mac and Don are on their way over there now, they had trouble getting in contact with the team representative."

Jo collapsed onto her chair, flinging her pen across her desk. She felt that she often reverted to slightly petulant behavior when she was frustrated. Lindsay caught the pen one-handed without looking, gently setting it back on Jo's side of the desk. Jo smiled at Lindsay's easy grace. Lindsay glanced up at her.

"Why wasn't Jordan at school?"

Jo tapped her scratched out list. "According to the four teachers I managed to get a hold of, the housekeeper informed the principle that Jordan has the flu. When I managed to finally get in contact with said housekeeper, she didn't even seem to realize that Jordan had been hospitalized, much less gone for three days straight."

"What happened with the hospital? How did Jordan manage to leave without anyone noticing?"

"We're not sure. Mac called as soon as the handwriting samples had gone through analysis to confirm that Jordan's father wrote them, but she was gone. She had a blood transfusion and was supposed to remain there overnight, but as soon as it was finished she had disappeared."

"Did she leave with her father? Do we think that he's taken her?"

Jo shook her head. "That's what is so strange about this whole thing. Several people witnessed Mr. Gray leaving almost a half-hour before Jordan was last seen. According to the doctor overseeing Jordan, he had a detailed conversation with Gray regarding Jordan's condition then he said he'd be back in an hour. That's the last time anyone has heard from him."

Lindsay pulled up a screen on her computer. "That reminds me, I put in a call to the law office. Mr. Gray has taken a leave of absence from his cases due to a 'family emergency.' His partners don't know where he is and his secretary said he would be gone for a while."

Jo stood up, shaking her head back and forth as she paced the space between the desks and the door. "None of this makes any sense, Lindsay. What is the possible motive he could have? Why would he run? Where would he go?"

Lindsay didn't respond, gazing back at her with large, worried eyes. Jo stopped and placed both hands on the desk, leaning forward to hold Lindsay's gaze.

"I'm worried about her. She could be in real danger and we don't have a clue where she might be. She's already hurt, she's most likely scared, and we can't give her any guarantees for her safety. Hell, we can't even find her!"

Jo collapsed back into her seat. Lindsay stood, moving around the desk to grip her shoulders. "We will, Jo. We'll find her."

* * *

Don Flack was rarely scared. He understood the risks of his job and he was often cautious entering a questionable situation, but he was rarely made to feel fear. But as he and Mac paced quickly through the once-familiar stadium, he couldn't ignore the gnawing alarm in his stomach that had been steadily growing since Mac had confirmed his worst fears regarding the case. The apprehension had set in after Mac's statement; they had all separated from the conference room for their specific tasks. Mac had sent Lindsay to verify the handwriting samples while he called the hospital to check on Jordan. Jo and Danny had gone back to the Decker crime scene to find evidence of the murderer in his apartment. Flack had taken the job of tracking down Dorian Gray, which led to a series of increasingly disappointing dead ends.

When Flack had failed to find Dorian and Mac had failed to find Jordan, Hawkes took over for Jo at the crime scene so she could help them research a list of people and places that might be able to find either of them. She had stayed at the lab to track them down, while he and Mac had decided to pay a visit to Jordan's coach. On the way there, they had ridden in a tense silence. Flack's "It isn't your fault, Mac" died in his throat before he could say it. He knew Mac was blaming himself; he blamed himself as well. He and Mac knew better than anyone what kind of person Gray was, and he knew Mac was feeling just as guilty for letting her leave as he was.

As they walked through the stadium, he tried not to think that the last time he had seen Jordan was when she left the precinct in a body bag. He was the one who had picked her up and laid her down on the gurney, wincing as the gauze wrapped around her turned bloody and her face grew paler. He had said goodbye and had thrown himself into finding the man who had caused her pain. He had experienced tunnel vision in his pursuit of Martin Decker, only relaxing once he and Danny had cleared the apartment with the dead man on the floor.

Mac's forearm blocked his chest, stopping his concentrated walk. "We turn here." He pointed past Flack down the hallway he had almost walked past. He nodded, falling back into step with Mac. He forcefully pushed the memory of two years ago out of his mind as they followed the posters down the hall of offices. Jordan had moved from her U17 team a year earlier to the premier league that ran out of the same stadium. Flack noticed that she seemed to be prominently featured in the promotional posters and calendars for the team, solemnly posed in her uniform or determinedly chasing the ball in an action shot. Despite the obvious press she was receiving, he couldn't see a single picture of her smiling. Both he and Mac paused outside the office of her coach, staring at the multiple images of her on the bulletin board; every single photo showed her stoic and somber, even the ones of her on the field.

Mac jabbed an elbow into his side, then winced and gripped his arm. Flack sympathetically winced in response, knowing that Mac sometimes forgot to pay attention to his injuries. He followed Mac's pointing finger to read that the coach was currently in practice. A quick glance inside the office verified that, and they both turned to head down the hallway leading to the field. Flack held back a few steps to observe Mac as he led the way past the locker rooms. Mac had the bad habit of running himself into the ground when he personally connected to a case, but this time he also had a significant injury on top of it. He looked worn but determined and, for the Marine that he was, Flack knew that would be good enough for now. He made a mental note to remind Jo to get Mac to take it easy.

They stepped out of the tunnel onto the field, heading toward the group of girls running a series of passing drills. Flack thought it was interesting that none of the players seemed to take notice of the two men who obviously didn't belong. Mac didn't seem to think anything of it, focusing instead on the man standing off to the side yelling incoherent phrases at the girls. Flack stepped forward to take the lead on the interview, hoping to release some of his frustration with answers.

"Coach Tyler?"

The man turned sharply, evidently as oblivious to them as his players. "Yes? I'm sorry, who are you? You can't be here, this is a closed practice."

They both held out their shields. "I'm Detective Flack, NYPD. This is Detective Taylor of the New York Crime Lab. We need to talk. Now." His tone brooked no refusal. The coach nodded slowly, indicating a spot a few yards off the field.

"How can I help, Detectives?"

Mac spoke up. "We need to know the location of one of your players, Jordan Gray."

The coach frowned. "Why? Is she in some kind of trouble?"

He and Mac exchanged a glance before turning back to the coach. "We think she might be in danger, and we haven't been able to locate her."

He was pleased when genuine concern flooded the coach's expression. He called his assistant over, said a few quiet sentences, then turned his attention back to Flack.

"I hope she isn't hurt." His questioning tone caused Flack to hesitate.

"We just need to find her."

The coach looked disappointed. "I'm so sorry, Detective. I wish I could help, I really do. But I haven't seen Jordan in over a month."

He and Mac exchanged shocked looks. Mac turned back to the coach with a confused expression.

"I'm sorry, I thought she is one of your players."

"Well, she is. I mean, she was. I mean, she still is but she's not…" he trailed off and ran a hand down his face. "I guess you didn't know."

Flack was getting frustrated. "Know what?"

The coach took a deep breath. "Jordan was injured, about two months ago. She hasn't played since."

Another exchange of shocked looks, another question from Mac.

"She was injured? How?"

"She blew out her knee, tore her ACL. It was pretty bad, and not just because it killed our chances for state. Jordan was upset."

Flack noticed Mac was going over something in his head, frowning as he concentrated.

"Do you know who hurt her? How did she get injured? Was it someone at home?"

"No, no! Oh, god no, it was during a game. No, I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression there. She was injured in a play." He turned and gestured to the goal box. "She was coming in to the right of the goal and one of her teammates fed her the ball, so she makes a jump shot. She landed on her left leg just as the goalie dives to stop the ball. Next thing I know, Jordan's on the ground."

He winced from the memory and shook his head. "She was in surgery for a few days, then she came back here for a month for rehab. Said she'd rather work with trainers that knew her, plus she wanted to be close to the team. Came to every practice."

Mac finally focused on his face. "But you haven't seen her in a month?"

His face fell. "She stopped coming, out of the blue. I called her, several times. She said she was feeling better and was ready to start working out on her own. I told her not to, I told her 'Wait till next season.' There was still a spot on the team for her, injured or not." He shook his head. "I don't know what happened. One day she's sitting on the sideline, doing exercises with the trainer, and she says she's going to take it slow. The next day, she's working out on her own, she stops coming to the stadium, and she tells me that it's better this way."

Flack glanced over at Mac at the key phrasing, seeing him nod in agreement. Some pressure had been added to Jordan that the coach was unaware of.

"What about her home life, Coach? How was everything?"

"I'm afraid I couldn't tell you. Jordan was very quiet, especially about her personal life. She wouldn't talk about it."

"Did you ever find that suspicious? That she wouldn't tell you anything?"

"Detective, it took Jordan six months before she said more than three words at a time to me, or anyone here."

Mac's cellphone rang at that point and he moved off to the side to answer it. The coach was shaking his head.

"It's too bad."

Flack took in his regretful expression. "What's too bad?"

"Jordan." He stared off past Flack's shoes for a few moments, finally bringing his gaze back up to meet his eyes. "I suppose you know about the tragedy with her former coach, Silas Jones?"

Flack mentally winced. "I'm aware of that, yes."

"I knew her back then. I had just started when the coach was killed. It was about drug problems, right?"

Flack frowned. "That rumor was never confirmed."

"Well, I had met Jordan a few weeks before. She was a bright kid, funny. She was always cheerful, always pleasant to talk to. When her coach died, it was like a light went out. She never spoke anymore, never laughed or joked, never even smiled. Then the new head coach would get into fights with her over insignificant issues, so I asked her to tryout for my team a year early, and she started playing for me." He chuckled. "We won state that year, but her coach's team got knocked out the first round of regionals." He laughed for a few moments.

Mac hung up the phone and walked back over. Flack could tell from the expression on his face that it wasn't good news. He turned to the coach to ask a question that had been bothering him.

"Coach, you said you knew Jordan a few years ago. Did you ever suspect she was having trouble at home?"

He paused, thinking. "No, I never found any evidence that led me to believe one way or another."

"Would you know if Coach Jones did?"

He shook his head. "No. If he had, everyone would know about it. It's extremely difficult to prove abuse as a sports coach, especially out of this stadium."

Flack frowned. "How's that?"

"Well, we aren't teachers or counselors. If we suspect abuse, we need absolute, concrete evidence to support it."

They both turned as two players collided behind them, slamming into the ground. As they picked themselves back up, he turned back to Flack.

"Given the nature of their sport, bruises aren't enough."

Flack nodded in understanding. Mac tapped his shoulder, indicating with his head that he had something to say. Flack nodded, sliding his card out of his pocket.

"If you think of anything, Coach, or if Jordan gets in contact with you, please give me a call."

He took the card, nodding. They began to walk away when he stopped them.

"Detectives?"

They turned back.

"Jordan is my best player. And she's a good kid. Whatever's going on, she doesn't deserve it." He paused, seeming to search for the right words. "Please make sure she's ok."

Mac nodded. "We will." He turned to follow Flack but paused when a thought came to him. "Coach? That play she was injured in… did she make the shot?"

The coach grinned. "Winning goal."

They walked away from the field as the coach returned to his players. Once they were out of earshot, Flack turned toward Mac.

"What's up?"

"Plain-clothes team we set up at Gray's house called in. They caught two men breaking into the house. You'll never guess who they are."

"Who?"

Mac paused in his stride to look him in the face. "It's Joey Minnetti and one of his boys. Looks like we're not the only ones looking for Dorian Gray."


	23. Help from the helpless

_Detective Mac Taylor had never felt more tempted to throw his chair through the wall of his office than he did at this moment. After Jordan had identified the significance of the file deleted from the coach's computer, Mac and Adam had spent all their energy attempting to restore the file. Mac had sent Jordan off with Danny to do a loose interview about what might be on the file. He had capitalized on the connection between the two, Danny's easy-going nature matching well with Jordan's penchant for keeping things light and on the surface. _

_Mac and Adam's research had sent them into a massive spiral of dead ends. Most of the file had been damaged when it was deleted, sensitive bits of information being flipped and corrupted. They had managed to restore all of the image files, prompting a sense of hope that they could find tangible proof as to why the coach was murdered. However, the resulting dead end had come when the pictures were all obscure photos of Jordan, evidently in an attempt to highlight various bruises and physical conditions. Mac still had Adam clean up the images to determine if there was anything useful from them._

_They had also recovered partial files of what appeared to be emails. Most of the text was indecipherable symbols that Adam identified as the computer's method of reading information before translating it to text. He was running the files through a program that would hopefully convert the gibberish back to language. Mac had scanned through the file titles, the only thing that had remained intact. Coach Jones had evidently tried to be obscure with his file, naming documents and images by letters and abbreviations. Most of them were easy to determine; the images all started with "J" and had the date and an additional letter, which Mac identified as the location of the supposed bruise in each photo. _

_But when Adam came back with the results of the emails, both of them shared a grim look of shock. Mac scanned through the emails, questioning both the coach's common sense as well as his technological ability. The coach had documented emails going to and from the inbox of none other than Jordan's father, Mr. Gray. The information seemed to be between Mr. Gray and a variety of clients and consisted of subtle bribes to outright threats. It wasn't until the name "Minnetti" showed up a few times, in support of Mr. Gray, that Mac's blood ran cold. Coach Jones had evidently stumbled accidentally into the workings of a crime boss and his attorney. _

_Mac now knew why the Coach had been murdered but he couldn't make the connection back to Jordan. He knew she was connected somehow, more than just her father having ties to an organized crime family. Her file had been taken when the coach's office had been ransacked, the additional files of her teammates being taken either on accident or to disguise the real intent. And he still couldn't connect the dots as to how the coach had been able to gain access to sensitive emails from Mr. Gray's computer. _

_Adam was still working on several corrupted files from the computer, trying to piece together the documents that started with "J", hoping to find some connection back to Jordan. Mac was staring at the email documents on his desk, partially translated with sporadic symbols and digital code spread throughout. He gripped the back of his chair, gauging the trajectory to send it through the glass wall with the least amount of force and effort on his part. His frustration stemmed from the emails; Adam had utilized experimental software to restore the text, using an assumptive algorithm based on typical computer binary code. Despite the positive results, what they had discovered was inadmissible in court. _

_Mac was pulled from his frustrated musings by the security guard for the crime lab knocking on his door. He looked up to see the officer escorting a teenaged boy about 17 years old, looking distinctly uncomfortable in his zip-up hoodie next to the uniformed security guard. He waved the boy in, nodding to the guard as he returned to his position. The kid had shaggy brown hair that swung down almost to his eyes but he met Mac's intent gaze with an earnest one of his own. He was tall and slender but was on the verge of growing into his adult frame, already gaining definition in his muscles. _

_"Detective Taylor?" His voice was deeper than his size gave him credit for._

_"Yes, and you are?"_

_"Jason. Uh, Jason Stockton. I'm Jordan's boyfriend."_

_Mac reassessed the kid based on the new information. He reached forward to shake his hand and was rewarded with a confident grip. His instincts were telling him that this was a good kid and he relaxed his tense posture a fraction._

_"She's with one of my officers at the moment, but she'll be back soon. I can't actually let her leave at the moment." Not until he arrested her father._

_"I know." _

_Mac raised an eyebrow, causing the kid to fluster a bit. _

_"I mean, I knew… Um, she told me." He pulled his cellphone from his pocket and held it up. _

_"Actually, Detective, I uh… I came here to talk to you."_

_Mac was surprised at this turn, but motioned for Jason to sit. He resumed his seat behind his desk and waited for the kid to explain._

_"So, um…" Jason was slightly nervous, evidently searching for the right words. Mac was going to wait him out, but reminded himself that this wasn't an interrogation._

_"Why don't you tell my why you're here?"_

_Jason nodded and cleared his throat._

_"I need you to help Jordan."_

_His forceful statement stunned them both into silence for a moment until he resumed his speech, having gotten over his initial stumble._

_"Look, Detective, I don't know you. I don't know what kind of person you are," he cast a glance toward Mac's framed Marine ribbons "but I bet you're a by-the-book kinda guy. But Jordan trusts you. And that's big. I mean, that's _huge! _It took her forever to open up to me and it only took you a single weekend." _

_Mac held up a hand. "Wait, just a minute. What do you mean? How do you know this?"_

_He started to respond but was interrupted when his phone vibrated in his hand. Both he and Mac turned their attention down to it, then glanced at each other. He grinned sheepishly._

_"She told me." _

_Mac nodded and leaned back, indicating he should continue._

_"She's told me a lot about you, said she was helping you find whoever killed Coach. I don't know what you said or what you did, but she likes you and she trusts you. And Jordan doesn't trust people."_

_Mac inclined his head towards Jason. "Except for you."_

_He grinned in a boyish mixture of cocky and embarrassed. "Well, I'm a special case." _

_Mac couldn't help but smile back, but his forehead creased as a thought struck him. "What about Silas Jones? Did she trust him?"_

_Jason sighed and rubbed his hand behind his neck. "Sorta. I mean, she likes… liked him well enough but Coach was kind of a forceful guy. She told me he was pushing her really hard to turn against her father."_

_Mac's head snapped up. "What about her father?"_

_Jason looked confused. "I thought you knew."_

_"Knew what?"_

_"Jordan told me you found out. I'm sorry, I thought she told you."_

_Mac leaned forward in his chair. "Jason, you need to tell me exactly what's going on. I can't do anything unless I have a clear understanding of what is wrong."_

_Jason nodded, looking thoughtful. "So that's what she meant. I wondered."_

_Mac frowned. "I'm sorry?"_

_He shook himself back to the present. "Right, sorry. She told me that you figured it out, said something like she said too much without even talking. So she didn't tell you, you guessed it." He nodded again._

_Mac tried to keep from getting frustrated, evidently the kid talked to himself to figure things out. He couldn't help but feel a pull to Jason; he had an easy, naïve charm similar to Adam and his honest concern for Jordan gave Mac a level of respect for him. _

_"Jason, talk to me."_

_Jason sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. "Jordan's father is beating the crap out of her."_

_Mac felt sickened as his suspicions gained tangible proof. "How do you know that?"_

_Jason looked at the front of Mac's desk, hair swinging into his eyes. "Uh, I've met him?"_

_Mac said nothing, just gave him a look to be serious. _

_"I noticed it when she wouldn't tell anyone we were dating and she never let me come to her house. I confronted her a few weeks later when she was showing up late to stuff and she always was hurt. She wouldn't talk about it and she got pretty upset when I would push her so I let it go. I stopped pushing her to talk about it so she wouldn't shut me out. I mean, she knew I knew but I couldn't talk about it because she knew I was the only one who wouldn't pressure her." He huffed a sigh, blowing his hair out of his eyes. "About a year ago she had a rough game. She was pretty upset about something at school, I can't even remember what. Anyway, she didn't play very well and she was benched halfway in the game. The next day…" his voice cut out. _

_Mac stood and came around his desk, sitting in the chair next to him. "It's ok, just take your time."_

_He nodded, clearing his throat. He kept talking but he still wouldn't meet Mac's eyes. _

_"She got in a fight with her dad and, uh… she got knocked around pretty good. She came to me right after and she was in rough shape." He gave a self-deprecating laugh. "I think she only came to me cuz I was the only place she could go."_

_Mac dipped his head to look him in the face. "But you were there."_

_He finally met his gaze, and relaxed for the first time. "Yeah. Anyway, she told me that he'd been… like that since her mom died. Nothing she did was ever good enough for him, except soccer. That's why she plays like a maniac, so he'll be proud of her. Or leave her alone, either way." He scrubbed his wrist against his cheek, composing himself. _

_After a few moments of silence, Mac spoke up. _

_"Jason, why did you come to me?"_

_He looked up. "I told you. Jordan trusts you."_

_"What do you expect me to do?"_

_"Look, Detective, her dad's a freak. He's a bad dude and he needs to be stopped. But nothing will happen until Jordan decides to get away from him. And someone needs to convince her that she will be better off without that psycho destroying her life. And that someone needs to be you."_

_"Why not you?"_

_He sighed. "I'm the only one in her life who doesn't push her to do something she doesn't wanna do. I can only support her when he gets… well, when things get ugly." He looked down at the floor. "I can't pressure her, or she'll shut me out." _

_Mac's response was cut off by a high, clear laugh from the hallway. Jason's eyes lit up as they both turned to see Jordan walking past with Danny, absorbed in listening to the story he was telling. He was making animated gestures and whatever he was telling her was making her laugh. Mac felt his features soften as he saw the tension that had been hanging around her release. He turned to find Jason giving him a knowing smile. _

_"You need to talk to her. She'll listen to her. Besides, I think you want to get this guy as much as I do." _

_Mac gave him a warning glance that had no heat behind it, only making Jason smirk harder. He stood to stretch his back, wincing at the tight muscles from too much lab work. He moved across his office to stare out at the back windows behind his desk. He felt more than saw Jason come to stand beside him. _

_"So you want to get this guy, huh?"_

_Jason nodded, staring out at the city. "He freaks me out. I mean, he's all smiles and sweetness but he is one seriously messed up dude." He chuckled. "I guess that's what you'd expect from an Oscar Wilde character."_

_Mac turned to frown at him. "What?"_

_He tore his gaze away from the city to look at Mac. "His name is Dorian. Dorian Gray."_

_Mac chuckled at the irony, as he realized he had never heard Gray's first name before. "Dorian Gray."_

_Jason turned back to the city. "Yeah, fits doesn't it? Super creepy dude that doesn't have to deal with the consequences of his actions." _

_Mac just cocked an eyebrow at him until he turned back to face him. _

_"AP English."_

_He chuckled. They continued staring out the window in silence until a thought came to him._

_"If Jordan wouldn't let you over as her boyfriend, how did you meet her father?"_

_Jason grinned. "He thinks I'm her tutor." _

_Mac smiled and turned back to his desk. "Jason, I know this won't be easy, but I need you to tell me what Mr. Gray has done." _

_Jason sat back down as well with a grim face. "Um, well, he gets uh, pretty physical when he's mad. He smacks her around a bit but nothing that really shows or can't be easily explained."_

_"How often?"_

_"Couple times a month. Usually when he's pissed or drunk. Not so much since her soccer team has really taken off."_

_"What else?"_

_"He's super controlling. Like, major control freak. She can't do anything without his say so." _

_His phone vibrated again. Mac pointed at it as he responded. _

_"How is she texting you if he's so controlling?"_

_He glanced up, looking chagrined. "I bought her a burner phone so she could keep in touch without him knowing." _

_Mac nodded. "One more thing, Jason. Have you ever seen Mr. Gray with someone named Joseph Minnetti?"_

_He shook his head. "No. But Jordan says he has meetings with some pretty sketchy people, she might know."_

_Mac leaned back in his seat. "She'll be finished soon, we can wait."_

_Jason stood up. "No, she can't know I was here." _

_Mac stood up as well. "Why?"_

_"I'm the _only _person who hasn't pushed her, Detective. She talks to me because she knows I'm on her side, that I'll listen without trying to fix everything. She needs to know that I'll keep doing that, even if I wish I could fix it." _

_He turned to walk out, stopping once he reached the door to look back. _

_"You need to convince her, Detective Taylor. She doesn't deserve what he's doing, she's better than that. And you need to get her to see that. She trusts you. Don't screw it up." _

_Mac took in his words, nodding. He crossed the room and shook Jason's hand. _

_"You're a good man, Jason. You're good for her."_

_Jason blushed and glanced down, and suddenly he was a young kid again. "Thanks. It was nice to meet you, Sir. I can see why she likes you. And thank you for helping her, especially when I can't."_

_Mac gripped his shoulder. "You've done more than you know." _

_He nodded and was gone, looking more like a scrawny skater boy than the determined young man who had felt guilty for not being in the right position to help his girl. Mac turned back to the position he had been in before, gripping the back of his chair. He stayed there, lost in his thoughts until Danny sent Jordan back into his office. Her happy attitude dimmed when she saw his serious expression._

_"Detective Taylor? What's the matter?"_

_He turned and walked to her, placing his hands on her shoulders so that he was looking her full in the face. _

_"I need your help, Jordan."_


End file.
